Finding Richard Castle - Evidence Be Damned
by Beledi1113
Summary: Post 7x01 AU. Summary – After finding the fake Henry Jenkins, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle and finds it isn't what it seemed to be.
1. Chapter 1 Cardano

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x01 AU. After finding the fake Henry Gibson, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle.

Author's Note: So this isn't going to be a one-shot after all since I felt the need to do a fix-it chapter on Espo's attitude towards Castle during his absence. Chapter 1 is still the same.

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**Chapter 1 – Evidence Be Damned – Cardano**

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"_We're entering into a gray area here," Vinnie Cardano, Driven. _

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Castle had been home a little over two weeks now, his sunburn healing nicely, but still peeling, giving his complexion a very uneven, blotchy look.

Twice a day, Martha slathered his face, hands, and scalp with her special cream, which left him smelling slightly floral and sliding off his pillow at night, but he put up with it good naturedly because it pleased her so much. And it really was helping his skin heal.

What he wasn't pleased about was his lack of memory of the two months he had been gone. He had seen the evidence they had found and had been strangely quiet since then, brooding when he thought no one was looking, but putting on his funny face when someone was, extruding confidence that he would crack this case.

But on more than one occasion, Beckett caught him staring out the window of the loft, lost in a void, muttering to himself that he couldn't believe he could have, would have left of his own volition – could have, would have left her.

When he came back to himself, he would tearfully beg her forgiveness again and she would tell him that it wasn't his fault, but that did little to placate him. And if she had been truthful, it did little to placate her either.

Since Castle's return, she again spent hours poring over the reports and felt like she was missing something – the reason was there right before her eyes, but she just couldn't see it.

She read Cardano's statement for the millionth time and decided to pay him a visit the next day to find out what he meant by 'entering into a gray area.' Castle would be at a meeting with Black Pawn so they could decide what else they needed to do to handle this situation, so she would be free most of the day.

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Vinnie had just poured himself his mid-morning constitutional glass of wine when the doorbell rang.

His assistant had the day off, so he answered the door himself.

"Good morning, Detective Beckett," he said, opening the door, not surprised to see her there. "What brings you out this lovely day?"

"I've been going over your statement," said Beckett without preamble, "and I have some questions."

Vinnie nodded. "I thought you would eventually. May I pour you a glass of wine?" he asked as he led her into the living room.

"No, thank you," said Beckett, sitting down on the couch next to him. "When we were talking, you said that we were 'entering into a gray area'. So who asked you to crush the Escalade?" she asked point blank.

Vinnie pursed his lips for a moment, regarding Beckett, and then let out a breath. "You may not like the answer."

"Cut the crap," she replied. "I know that Castle made the money drop. We have it on tape. Did he call you about the Escalade?"

"No," said Vinnie finally. "He told me himself."

Beckett stared at him. "He was here?" she asked finally, her voice not so firm, not wanting to believe the worst. "When?"

Vinnie nodded. "About an hour after the crash. Looked like he had gotten into a fight with a 300-lb linebacker. Hair was a mess; tissue up his nose to stop the bleeding; huge bruise on the side of his face. The tux he was wearing was trashed – the knees ripped out, jacket torn. Hell, from the blood stains on the shirt, I think he'd even been shot."

Beckett relaxed slightly. So the pristine tuxedo they had found in the tent hadn't been his. "What else?" she asked.

Vinnie shrugged. "The guy he was with looked just as bad."

Beckett pulled a picture from the portfolio she was carrying. "This guy?" she asked, showing him a picture of Henry Jenkins.

"Yeah, that's him," nodded Vinnie.

"Did Castle seem to know him?" Beckett asked.

Vinnie nodded again. "But it wasn't like they were real friendly. Castle was furious and spoke to him several times in Chinese, I think. Couldn't make out what he was saying, although it didn't sound very polite if you get my drift."

"Did he say who was driving the Escalade – if Henry Jenkins was driving it?" asked Beckett.

"Rick didn't want to go into details – said the less I knew, the better off I'd be. He said that they needed to get rid of the Escalade quickly – that it was being tracked – that they were going dark." Vinnie paused. "I told him how much it would cost and he said that wasn't a problem – he had the cash on him because whoever was in the Escalade took his luggage out before torching the car."

"But if he had the money on him, why did he make the money drop?" asked Beckett, frowning because that had been the most damning piece of evidence.

"He said he needed to make it public – that he had to make 'them' believe he had walked away willingly, so you and his family wouldn't be a target," Vinnie said. "So we found a drop site with cameras and he took the money with him. He asked me to get rid of everything else so no one could find out he had been here."

Beckett nodded slowly. That sounded like Castle – he had said he would do anything to keep her safe, and apparently that anything also included destroying their relationship if necessary.

"Anything else?" she asked finally.

Vinnie stared at her for a minute, and then got up and walked into his office. He returned a moment later with an envelope which he held out to her. "He asked that I look out for you, Ms. Rogers, and Alexis in case things went south. He said he couldn't access any of his accounts at that time, but he deeded over his house here as a guarantee."

Beckett frowned, taking the envelope and opening it. She quickly read Castle's neat handwriting, giving his house in the Hamptons to Vinnie in lieu of $4 million in payment, quite a markdown from the actual price.

"I don't understand," she said, shaking her head.

Now it was Vinnie's turn to frown. "I think Rick came here because of my reputation, mostly undeserved, I might add. But that reputation does offer some protection – causes most people to think before acting. And I was more than willing to oblige him."

Beckett nodded, biting her lip, and then looking up. "How was he when you saw him then?"

Vinnie shrugged. "Devastated – like a man who had just lost everything." He paused for a moment. "Determined – had the look about him of a man going to war who doesn't expect to return."

Beckett nodded again, willing herself not to tear up. "Then what happened? How did they leave?"

Vinnie looked out the window at the bay. "Damnest thing – we were in this very room and a man came out of the water in scuba gear. Had 2 extra tanks and wetsuits with him. Castle put his clothes in a bag." He paused. "I asked him where they were going and he said they were hunting the bastards who had done this."

He looked back at Beckett. He had seen the reports of Castle's return on the TV and in the newspapers. "And I think Rick found whoever they hunting, and whoever they were hunting found him."

Beckett nodded, wiping a tear from her eye finally. "Vinnie," she said finally, "when you were watching us, did you see anyone?"

Vinnie sat back on the couch and then nodded. "Possibly – a couple of times in those first few weeks. We let them know we were there and they backed off pretty quickly." He took a sip from his glass and then looked at the envelope in Beckett's hand. "Just give that back to Rick – tell him it's on the house this time."

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Castle was already back at the loft, standing in the kitchen, smiling at Alexis' story as she made dinner.

He smiled tentatively at Beckett when she walked in. "How was your day?" he asked.

"Productive," said Beckett, looking at him and then smiling at him, genuinely for the first time since his return. This was a man who loved his family so much that he would give up everything to keep them safe.

She walked over to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and then quickly wiped off her lips. "Eww – your mother's gotten ahold of you already."

"Yeah," said Castle, grimacing. "Sorry."

"No," Beckett said, smiling slightly, shaking her head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

She took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, relaxing into him, listening at Alexis' story, feeling content for the first time in months.

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	2. Chapter 2 Esposito - Seeds of Doubt

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x01 AU. After finding the fake Henry Gibson, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. First is Cardano's testimony; then she feels that Espo doubts Castle.

Author's Note: So this isn't going to be a one-shot after all since I felt the need to do a fix-it chapter on Espo's attitude towards Castle during his absence. Chapter 1 is still the same. This second chapter focuses on Esposito. Not sure if there will be a 3rd – depends on if I can think of something else. Can't wait for tomorrow night though to see what the writers are doing.

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**Chapter 2 – Esposito – Seeds of Doubt**

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"_That's Castle – he's the one who dropped off the cash?" Esposito, Driven. _

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Beckett frowned tentatively before she finally knocked on Lanie's door. She had told Castle that she would be working late, and she really was, even though it wasn't at the precinct.

The talk she had had with Cardano that morning had been eye-opening, but she wasn't sure what to do with it, what Castle was mixed up in – if he was still mixed up in it.

But she also needed to talk to someone else about a different matter and that person was here. She needed to see what he had to say before deciding whether to file a formal conduct complaint against him, something that Castle would never do.

But this problem had to be resolved for the good of the team and resolved quickly. Other officers were picking up on the furtive looks that Espo had been directing towards the writer since his return when he thought no one was looking, the hesitation about Castle returning to field work.

That was starting to affect how others at the precinct treated him in subtle ways and that she could not have.

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Lanie smiled as she looked out the peek hole in her door and then opened it.

"Hey, girl, you should have let me know you were coming – I would have chilled a bottle of that wine you like. And cleared out the apartment."

Beckett's frowned deepened momentarily. "This really isn't a social call, Lanie," she said. "I need to talk to Esposito."

"Oh," responded Lanie, a slightly surprised expression on her face. "Must be bad since you're using his last name. What'd he do now? You want me to smack him for you?" she asked before turning and calling out to the bedroom. "Javi, we've got company so you might want to put something on – and not my robe."

A few moments later, Espo walked out of Lanie's bedroom, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. He looked surprised at seeing Beckett there. "What's up?" he asked, looking at the two women.

Beckett let out a breath before starting, looking at the detective. "Javi, we've known each other for a long time – you've had my back more times than I can count." She paused and then shook her head. "But lately, I don't think I know you at all. So tell me I'm wrong – that you're not blaming Castle for his disappearance. Because I've seen the looks you've been giving him and so have the other officers and it's starting to affect things at the precinct."

Espo swallowed and shrugged slightly. "So what do you want me to do, Kate?" he asked finally. "You saw the evidence – the mysterious call to Cardona to crush the SUV that ran Castle off the road – Castle making the money drop – the tent we found with his stuff in it. Who else could it have been but Castle?"

Beckett shook her head, frowning slightly. "But the tent was planted to throw us off the trail of whoever did this – by the fake Henry Jenkins and whoever he works for. And there could have been thousands of reasons why we think it was Castle who made the money drop." She paused, remembering what Vinnie had told her. "I'm just asking you to give Rick the benefit of the doubt now, Javi, for the good of the team, otherwise," she took in a breath, "I'm going to have to file a formal conduct complaint against you."

Lanie gasped at that and looked at Beckett. "Kate?!" she exclaimed.

Beckett stared at Esposito as he pursued his lips and nodded. "Unless you can give me a good reason for why you're acting this way," she finished.

Espo studied the floor for a few minutes and then looked up at the two women. "You want a beer? I suddenly feel very thirsty." He turned and walked over to the refrigerator, took out a beer, popped the top, and guzzled most of it down before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Javier Esposito," Lanie demanded, "you're not getting off the hook that easily. You come back here right now and tell us what you know."

Espo returned momentarily with 2 beers which he offered to Lanie and Beckett. "You might want to sit down for this," he said finally.

He studied them for a moment after they sat down on the couch. "Kate, there's no easy way to tell you this, but Castle arranged his disappearance before your wedding."

"That's your opinion," said Lanie.

Espo shook his head sadly. "No, chica – that's a fact. And the reason I know is that Castle called me right before you got the call about the wreck," he said, looking at Beckett.

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_***Time jump backward to the almost wedding***_

The setting for the wedding was beautiful and Espo smiled almost wistfully, as wistfully as a macho detective could smile.

Lanie had looked gorgeous in her maid of honor dress – no, not gorgeous – hot and sexy to be exact and that got him to thinking thoughts he shouldn't be thinking at the wedding of one of his best friends.

She had disappeared a little while ago to go help Kate finish dressing and now the natives were indeed getting restless as the time stretched on with no sight of either the groom or the bride. Alexis had broken out the bubbly to keep the masses quiet for a while longer while the string quartet went through their standard repertoire as a stalling tactic.

He was about go find out what was going on when a well-endowed server in a tight button down shirt bumped into him, splashing champagne on his shoes and the side of his pants.

"Oh, I am so sorry. Here – let me," she said, quickly putting down the tray and grabbing a bar towel tucked into the back of her pants.

"No problem," said Espo as he took the towel and then felt something inside of it.

She shot him a look and then quickly picked up the tray and moved off to offer other guests a drink, disappearing into the crowd.

Espo frowned as the phone in the towel buzzed and quickly answered it.

"Espo, thank god, I don't have much time," said Castle in a breathless voice.

"Bro, I've heard of brides being late to weddings, but not grooms," Espo commented. "Where are you?"

Castle's next words almost made him drop the phone. He hadn't heard that phrase since his days in Special Forces and knew immediately what it meant.

"Javi, something's come up – I'm not making it," said Castle. "Tango Alpha Heavy – we've got to go dark."

"What the hell, Castle?" hissed Espo as he moved away from the crowd so he could talk in private. "Man, if you're fooling around, this isn't the least bit funny."

"No, no – if there was any way I could be there, you know I would be," said Castle, his voice breaking slightly. "I'd never put Kate or Alexis or Martha through this. But if they think that my family – that Kate – knows where I am, they'll come after them. And I've seen what they can do. Ask Lanie to look at the autopsies for Grant Riseman and his family."

"Look, man, where are you? We'll come get you," Espo reasoned.

"No, you can't. If they think you know, they'll come after you too – and Lanie and Kevin and Jenny. You can't help me."

"Castle, what have you gotten yourself into?" Espo asked urgently.

"I don't know – I just know they want me for something," he replied. "Kate's about to get a call. Javi – I'm sorry, but you're the only one I can trust with this. Uh, I need you to make sure Kate doesn't get anywhere when she investigates my disappearance."

"You're disappearing?" Espo asked in disbelief.

"Hence the going dark," said Castle, "and I don't know for how long."

"You know this is Beckett we're talking about – she won't stop until she finds you," Espo replied.

"That's where you come in," said Castle. "There will be proof that I wanted to disappear – that I planned this whole thing, which is true. All you have to do is plant seeds of doubt – throw her off the trail." There was a pause. "Can you do that, Javi? Can you do that for Kate?"

Espo frowned slightly. He had never lied to Kate before and wasn't sure he could pull it off. "Sure, bro. But you owe me big time for this, and by big time, we're talking about driving the Ferrari for a month."

Castle chuckled darkly. "Hell, Javi, if you do this – if you keep Kate safe, I'll give you the damned Ferrari and pay for the insurance." There was a pause. "Cardano is going to watch over Kate and Martha and Alexis, but watch your back – we don't know who is involved in this." Another pause. "Now, walk over to the edge of the cliff and throw this phone into the water. And this conversation never happened. And thank you, Javi, for all you've done. It's been a pleasure working with you."

"Right, man, but we'll see you when you get back," said Espo.

"Yeah," said Castle and then the line went dead.

Espo frowned at the phone and then pulled out his own phone and opened a browser. He did a quick search for Grant Riseman in the NYPD database and didn't like what came up. Riseman was a traveling salesman, quiet, unassuming, lived in a good neighborhood, that is until he came back and found his wife in bed with his best friend, and then killed his wife, their little girl, and the man before setting fire to his house and taking his own life. The police chalked it up to a crime of passion.

Espo walked over to the cliff and looked around to make sure no one was watching before he tossed the phone into the bay.

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***Present Day – Lanie's Apartment***

Beckett stared at Espo in shock. "Javi, how could you?" she asked finally quietly, tears running down her face. "You knew all this time. And you let me doubt him."

Looking slightly guilty, Espo nodded. "I did it to keep you safe, Kate – and to keep Castle safe," he said softly. "Because of what they did to Riseman and his family. Because of what they would have done to you – to Martha, to Alexis – if you had found something – if you had found him before he came back on his own."

Lanie looked at him, now understanding his request, and then turned to Beckett. "Javi asked me to review those reports," she said. "And I noticed some discrepancies. The firemen were able to put out the fire before the house burnt down completely and the bodies consumed. They said the blaze started in the bedroom where the bodies were found – that Riseman must have started the fire. The best friend and the daughter died before the fire started – their limbs were contracted and there was no soot in their mouths. But Riseman and his wife had soot in their mouths, so they were alive during the fire. But they also had numerous bone fractures. The police said that Riseman beat his wife before setting the fire and that she fought back, which resulted in the broken bones. But the CSU pictures show signs of pseudo-ligature marks on their wrists and ankles, so how could she have fought back and how could he have started the fire if they were restrained?"

"And the original ME didn't see those?" asked Beckett.

"He had a family emergency right after doing the preliminary autopsies," Lanie replied, pausing to look at the beer in her hands. "And another strange thing is that when I asked to view the video of those autopsies and the photos of the bodies at the scene, they weren't available – the hard drive they were on crashed, as well as the backup drive. And the bodies had been cremated and their ashes scattered."

"So there was no proof as to what happened, other than the written record," said Beckett. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked at Espo. "But Javi – what about now? Why do you keep looking at Castle like he's lying? Like he's a bomb ready to go off?"

Espo shrugged. "Well, Castle didn't exactly come back on his own and he can't explain what happened." He stood and started to pace. "I don't know whether to be glad he's back or to keep protecting you, Kate, because what if it's not over? What if they let him go and are watching him to see what he does?"

Beckett nodded. "Then we'll deal with it," she said firmly.

"Kate, these people – whoever they are – were able to hack the DMV database," Espo said. "They killed Riseman and his family and erased the reports."

Beckett nodded and stood up, determination evident by her stance. "It's not the first time we've faced someone with seemingly unlimited resources. We'll get through this."

Lanie stood up and gave her a quick hug. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will," Beckett replied and then looked at Espo. "And thank you, Javi, for everything – for me and for Castle."

Espo nodded back at her. "No problem. Let's just hope it's over."

Lanie closed the door after Beckett left and then turned and looked at Javi, her expression serious. "Javier Esposito, you are not keeping the Ferrari."

"Ah, can't a man dream. Besides, he doesn't even remember giving it to me."

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The End Until I Can Think of Something Else


	3. Chapter 3 Hollander Woods

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x01 AU. After finding the fake Henry Gibson, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. First is Cardano's testimony. Then she feels that Espo doubts Castle. Next, Castle tells her what happened in Hollander's Woods and his doubts about what the fake Jenkins told him in Montreal.

Author's Note: Totally AU – What if Castle met his father in Hollander's Woods when he was 11 and that's how the fake Jenkins knows about what happened then? And wow, this is fairly long. BTW, if there is Hollander's Woods, I can't find it on a map. Maybe it's an allegory? But I did find a great poem by John Hollander that fits.

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**Chapter 3 – Hollander's Woods**

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An Old-Fashioned Song by John Hollander

No more walks in the wood:  
The trees have all been cut  
Down, and where once they stood  
Not even a wagon rut  
Appears along the path  
Low brush is taking over.

No more walks in the wood;  
This is the aftermath  
Of afternoons in the clover  
Fields where we once made love  
Then wandered home together  
Where the trees arched above,  
Where we made our own weather  
When branches were the sky.  
Now they are gone for good,  
And you, for ill, and I  
Am only a passer-by.

We and the trees and the way  
Back from the fields of play  
Lasted as long as we could.  
No more walks in the wood.

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For the most part, Castle seemed to return to normal (if there was such a thing for him) after his solo trip to Montreal, but occasionally he would awake in the middle of the night, sweating and agitated. He would move to the couch so he didn't disturb Beckett and sit, staring out at the New York skyline, lost in his own world, lost in his own thoughts.

After a few moments, Beckett would join him, pulling his arm around him and tucking herself into his side, pulling him back into the real world, before his ruminations pulled him down a rabbit hole that he couldn't escape from.

On one of their rare days off, she had been pleasantly surprised when Castle mentioned having a picnic and thought they were going to their park. But the drive was much longer, ending at a park in Upstate New York, and Castle had been strangely silent on the trip up.

The park was small, slowly shrinking as the housing developments encroached on all sides, the main feature a small lake in the middle.

Castle sat in the driver's seat of his new car, staring pensively out the windshield, his fingers drumming restlessly against the steering wheel, while Beckett sat in the passenger's seat, waiting patiently for him to speak.

He finally let out the breath he had been holding and looked at her apologetically. "Sorry – I haven't been much company on the way up."

Beckett smiled at him. "You've had a lot on your mind," she said simply and then looked out the windshield at the small sign in front of the park. "Hollander's Woods," she read.

Castle nodded, looking out again. "Used to be a lot bigger. A producer friend of my mother's owned about 50 acres here and let us come camping when I was a boy."

Beckett looked slightly surprised as she pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "Martha and camping? That seems like an oxymoron."

Castle laughed slightly. "Oh, Mother's idea of camping is a day spa and the Plaza. She'd send me up here with Tim and his brothers when she had weekend performances. Said I needed more male bonding time."

He looked back out of the windshield. "I think there's still a picnic table we can sit at by the lake."

"Okay," nodded Beckett.

Castle opened the car door, then walked around to her side and opened her door for her. He quickly retrieved the picnic basket he had packed and gripped it in one hand, while his other gripped Beckett's hand.

The picnic table was near the edge of the lake, near a group of trees where ducks sat sleeping in the shade.

"So you used to come here a lot?" Beckett asked as they reached the picnic table.

"Yeah, when I was 11 – Ralph, Tim, Kenny and me," he replied, putting the basket down on the table and then sitting down, looking at the lake. "Ralph was the oldest – he was 21 and a senior in college at NYU. Tim was 17 – my mother paid him to watch me after school. Kenny was 2 years older than I was." He paused for a moment. "They were like the brothers I never had."

Castle was silent for a while longer, not pulling anything out of the basket. "The fake Henry Jenkins said I told him about this place – what happened here – to prove that what he said was true about me wanting to have my memory erased."

Beckett sat down next to him and picked up his hand to hold it. "And you believe him?"

Castle smiled slightly, looking at her. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I've never told anyone what happened here. Not my mother, not Ralph, not Tim, not Kenny, certainly not Alexis. So I must have..."

Beckett held her breath, waiting for Castle to continue.

He stood suddenly, keeping a firm grasp on her hand. "Let's take a walk. Let me give you the tour."

Beckett took his hand as she stood. "Okay."

Castle looked at the picnic table and then at the tree line a couple of yards away. "When we came here, the lake was up past those trees and almost to those houses over there," he said, pointing with his free hand.

"We'd camp where the parking lot is – there was a clearing and then the woods started." He paused for a moment. "They were beautiful – thick, lush. We'd see deer, foxes, raccoons, even an occasional skunk – which never turned out well when Barney got involved, so we always had tomato soup with us."

Beckett laughed at that and waited for him to continue as they walked.

"Barney was their golden retriever – really sweet dog." Castle stared off in the distance, as if still seeing the woods that had been there once. "It was a great spot and not many people camped here, so he could run all he wanted."

He led her down a path that surrounded the lake. "It was the February when I was 11. The weather was surprisingly warm for that time of the year. Ralph didn't have classes on Fridays and Mondays, and Mother was busy with a play so we came up here for the weekend. We got here on Friday afternoon."

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_**Flashback**_

Antsy after the long trip (at least to them), Ricky, Kenny, and Barney clambered out of the truck when Ralph parked it next to their favorite camping site.

Ralph and Tim were experienced campers, former Boy Scouts, and directed the younger boys where to set up their tents to get the best breeze and not to have tree roots poking through the bottom.

They then sent the younger boys in search of fire wood to work off some of their excess energy while they rebuilt the fire circle to contain their campfire, making sure that there was adequate space between the middle of the circle and the grass on the outside so that they didn't cause a forest fire.

Barney followed the younger boys, barking ferociously and darting into the woods several times as he caught scent of something that needed to be chased.

A quick game of spy vs spy made gathering the wood a lot more fun.

"Hot dogs or hamburgers?" Ralph asked when Ricky and Kenny came back with an armload of wood each.

"Hot dogs," they quickly replied. "And fried fish tomorrow."

"But only if you're quiet and don't scare the fish off," groused Tim as he built the campfire.

Both younger boys squatted down next to him so that they could watch what he was doing. He put several handfuls of the tinder in the center of the fire ring and then crisscrossed the kindling over it.

Tim stood and pulled a hand drill out of the bucket he had placed outside of the fire ring and tossed it to Kenny. "Here – this will put some hair on your chest," he commented as the boys groaned at him.

He moved to sit on one of the camp stools they had brought and Ralph handed him a beer as he joined them to watch the two boys struggling to start the fire.

"You didn't bring matches?" Ralph asked.

"Yes, of course – and steel wool and batteries," replied Tim with a smirk as he pointed the neck of the beer towards the struggling boys. "But I want them to sleep tonight so this should help wear them out."

They clinked the top of the beers together and then sat back and watched.

After a while, they took pity on the boys and Tim walked over to them.

"That's enough hair on your chest because I want to eat sometime soon. Matches, or battery and steel wool?" he asked.

"Matches!" yelled Kenny at the same time Ricky yelled, "Battery and steel wool!"

Tim laughed at them and pointed to the pile of tinder and kindling sitting safely outside of the fire ring. "Go get some of that and make your own starter, Rogers," he said to Ricky.

He handed Kenny several matches and watched Ricky assembled a small fire lay in the form of a teepee. Next he took out the battery and steel wool from the plastic bucket and handed it to the boy.

Ricky licked his lips and concentrated on doing everything exactly the same way Tim had shown him their last camping trip. He took the steel wool and pulled a long string of it loose. He then leaned closer to his wooden teepee, laying the string on top, and then touched the ends of the wire to the ends of the battery. The wire began to glow and finally caught fire, and he gently blew on the tinder so that it caught. After a few moments, he had a nice little fire going and added several small twigs.

Both boys started to grab larger logs, but Tim stopped them.

"Hey, we're not building a bonfire tonight unless you're staying up to watch it."

Ricky and Kenny looked at each other and then shook their heads. The bonfire would be tomorrow night, along with the requisite campfire horror stories, s'mores, and hot chocolate – the trifecta of any camping trip in their minds.

The rest of the night was spent cooking, washing the dishes, and making a quick trip to facility at the front of the property before bedding down in their sleeping bags.

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The sun had just started to rise over the horizon when a loud shriek jolted both boys into an upright position, eyes blinking wide, sleep-addled brains not processing a whole lot at this point except that their fight or flight instinct had kicked in.

The scream rent the air again as they looked at each other in shock.

Ricky opened his mouth several times and then frowned. "Damn peacocks," he said, finally realizing what the sound was.

"I'm going to tell your mother on you," laughed Kenny.

"Like you don't swear," Ricky retorted as he snuggled back down in his warm sleeping bag. "You'd think they'd fly south for the winter."

"They can't, dumb ass. They're in a pen," Kenny retorted.

Both boys tried to go back to sleep but in vain as Barney realized they were stirring and leapt on them to get them up.

"Okay, okay," Ricky said finally. "Yes, I'm getting up." He got up on his knees and stretched and then sat back down and prodded Kenny with his foot. "Hey, I need to go."

"Then take Barney," said Kenny, pulling the sleeping bag up over his head. "He counts."

Tim had a strict buddy policy, which meant you were always with someone.

Ricky frowned at him. "Yeah, until he goes off chasing a rabbit or a fox."

He quickly shrugged on his outer wear and unzipped the tent flap, leaving it open so that a cold blast hit Kenny.

"Hey!" came the complaint. "I'm trying to sleep here."

"Yeah, yeah," Ricky said as he climbed out of the tent and then finally stood up and stretched again.

The day was overcast, not quite as warm as the day before, but still had potential.

He sniffed the air, catching the scent of bacon and then looked at their unlit campfire. Where was the smell coming from.

He frowned as he looked down by the lake and saw that their private campgrounds now had several more people at it.

A camper was parked closer to the water, a woman standing over a folding table with a Coleman stove on it, cooking bacon and brewing coffee also.

Another tent was pitched across the lake, a small john boat pulled up on shore next to it, but there was no sign of the people who were there.

Barney got one whiff of the bacon and took off hungrily towards the camper.

"Barney! No!" Ricky shouted as he followed, trying to keep pace with the dog but to no avail.

When he reached them, the woman was petting Barney and smiling.

"Sorry," he said a little breathlessly. "We're not used to having other people here so we just let him run loose."

"That's certainly not a problem," the woman laughed as she stood up and offered him her hand. "I'm Mrs. Mayweather."

"Ricky Rogers," he replied courteously, shaking her hand. "And that's Barney."

Mrs. Mayweather knelt again, giving the dog's coat a vigorous rub. "And you're such a good boy."

Ricky frowned curiously as two young women stepped out of the camper.

"Morning, mom," they said as they walked over to them, their jackets pulled tight around them against the chill in the air.

"Good morning, dears," said Mrs. Mayweather. "These are our neighbor, Ricky Rogers and Barney. These are my daughters, Tiffany and Sheila."

The girls nodded at him.

"So are you here camping with your family?" asked Tiffany, the older of the two.

Ricky shook his head and pointed back to their campsite. "No, just Ralph, Tim, and Kenny. My mother doesn't camp unless it's at a hotel."

"Smart lady," said Sheila under her breath, which earned her a look from her mother.

"Ricky, would you like to join us for breakfast?" Mrs. Mayweather asked.

"Sure," said Ricky. The prospect was a whole lot better than having warmed-over hot dogs.

A short time later, Ralph and Tim stumbled out of their tent and also noticed their new camping companions, which led to a quick trip to the facilities in the front and then they showed up at the site with their hair brushed and teeth cleaned.

Ricky and Kenny, who had joined him by this time, rolled their eyes at them as the introductions were made and the older boys offered to show the girls around later on.

Breakfast was a hardy one, with eggs, bacon, camp-fire potatoes, and biscuits and gravy.

The younger boys almost inhaled their food while the older boys ate more slowly, talking, getting to know their neighbors.

The men across the lake finally emerged from their tent and headed to their john boat, pushing it off and starting the small motor after they were far enough from shore. They headed towards the opposite end of the lake.

# # # # # # # #

After helping Mrs. Mayweather clean up in payment for breakfast, the boys headed towards the lake with their fishing poles.

The older daughter carried a sketch pad while the younger daughter took out her camera to take pictures with.

Ralph and Tim set up the fishing poles, giving the boys plenty of worms to use, and then pulled the old picnic table closer to the bank and sat down.

Ricky and Kenny quickly forgot about them as they sat out to "fish," but spent most of the time trying to knock one another into the water, with a few threats from Tim as to what would happen to them if they actually succeeded.

Ricky quickly lost interest in sitting on the bank, watching the cork bob in the water, and pleaded with Tim to let him walk around.

The older boy finally consented, providing he take Barney with him and not to be gone too long.

Ricky quietly walked along the bank of the lake, crossing some boulders, pretending that he was climbing mountains in some foreign land, searching for a lost outpost, as Barney walked with him.

At one point, Barney growled low in his throat and hunched down, looking through the thick reeds that grew on one point of the bank.

Ricky stopped and followed his line of sight and then saw what Barney had seen.

A man wearing waders, a baseball hat, and sunglasses stood in the lake, water past his knees. He held a long rod in one hand and gracefully whisked the line into the air, back over his shoulder, and then forward, the line landing smoothly on the water.

Ricky squatted on the bank and watched the man for a while as he repeated the motion, sometimes snapping his wrist so that the striking fish would catch on the lure, other times, just playing with the fish.

He knew that the man had seen him because the man would occasionally glance his way.

The man finally reeled the line in and walked back to store, carrying his impressive stringer of fish with him.

The man then emptied the stringer into a fish basket hooked to a tree root close to the shore and then stood and looked at him.

"You a fisherman?" he asked.

Ricky stood and shook his head. "No, not really. Tim says I don't have the patience for it." He walked closer to the man, Barney by his side. "So what was that? I've never seen anyone doing that before."

"Fly fishing," the man replied. "Want me to show you how?"

Ricky nodded. "Sure."

"Here," said the man, picking up a smaller fishing rod that he had. "Let's practice on dry land first."

He showed him the basics, which Ricky quickly picked up with some gentle corrections.

"So, you ready to try it in the lake?" the man finally asked.

Ricky looked at his pants and shoes, and then frowned at the man. "I don't have any waders and Tim said he'd make me walk back if I got my clothes wet."

"Did he now? Well, I've got an extra pair," the man said, pointing to a duffel bag on higher ground. "They're over there. The boots may be a little big, but you're welcome to use them."

"Thanks," said Ricky. He walked over to the bag and took out the extra waders and quickly slipped them on. The boots were a little big, but they would work.

He carefully walked back over to the man, who handed him the smaller rod.

They waded back out until the water was over Ricky's knees.

Following the man's instructions, he cast out the line. He was nowhere as graceful as the man, but he was finally rewarded on his 5th try when a fish struck the line. He quickly set the hook like the man showed him and reeled the fish in, a delighted expression on his face.

"I caught one!" he exclaimed, grinning, holding the flapping fish in front of his face in awe.

"Yes, but if you want to catch any more, you need to be quieter," the man admonished softly as he showed him how to take the fish off of the hook and then put in on the stringer.

They spent several more hours casting and catching, Ricky sometimes watching the man as he let out his line, the man sometimes watching him as he copied the man's movements.

Ricky was about to cast out again when a sharp "ehm" from the bank caught his attention.

He turned to find Tim there, tapping his foot at him. "What cha' doing?" the older boy said.

"Fly fishing," replied Ricky, almost innocently. He had lost track of time again and had no clue where Barney had gotten off to. "It's really fun – you ought to try it," he said quickly.

"Uh, huh," said Tim. He looked at the man.

"Oh, Tim, this is my friend – uh," said Ricky, looking up at the man. He didn't even know the man's name.

"Mr. Wilson," the man said, waving at Tim.

"So you know the Myers?" Tim asked as he crossed his arms and looked at the man.

Mr. Wilson smiled and nodded at him. "Fred and Harriett? I'm one of their sponsors and they know I like fly fishing. On those rare occasions I'm state-side, I like to come up here and fish."

Tim nodded and then relaxed slightly, looking at Ricky. "You and Kenny need to find more wood for the campfire tonight."

Ricky nodded. "Okay." He looked up at the man. "Thanks a lot, Mr. Wilson. I really enjoyed learning to fly fish. Maybe we can do it tomorrow?"

Mr. Wilson chuckled slightly. "I wish I could, but I need to leave early."

"Oh, okay," Ricky said, slightly downcast and then he perked up. "Maybe you can come to our bonfire tonight."

"We'll see," Wilson said, holding out his hand. "But it was a pleasure meeting you, Richard Rogers," he said as they shook hands. "And why don't you take the fish you caught?" he asked, holding out the stringer to him.

"Are you sure?" Ricky asked, eyes wide. "Thanks."

He slowly waded out of the lake, hauling the stringer of fish, and Tim helped him take off the waders.

Ricky turned back to Wilson. "Thanks again," he said, waving and holding up the stringer.

The man nodded at him and then cast out his line again.

# # # # # # # #

Mrs. Mayweather invited them for dinner that night, which the boys readily accepted. And it was a fine dinner.

She showed Ricky and Kenny had to clean the fish Ricky had caught (much to their disgusted delight) and then pan fried the fish along with some bell peppers she had brought. She also prepared a campfire stew, which the older boys helped the girls peel the potatoes for. The dessert was a dutch-oven peach cherry cobbler.

After dinner, the younger daughter brought out her guitar and they sang all of the silly campfire songs they could remember, much to the delight of Ricky and Kenny who quickly added them to their repertoire of things that irritated other people.

Mrs. Mayweather finally turned in, saying they had to get an early start in the morning, and left the youngsters to sit around the campfire, telling ghost stories and eating s'mores.

# # # # # # # #

Several hours later, Ricky stirred and listened to the night sounds – what had woken him other than a very full bladder and a slight headache? Maybe he and Kenny shouldn't have snuck that beer when Tim and Ralph weren't looking.

He nudged Kenny's foot, but didn't get a response. He knew that he wouldn't get back to sleep at this point unless he did something, so he wrapped his coat around him and crawled out of the tent.

He walked over to where Barney lay in the fire circle and gently stroked the dog's fur. "Hey, want to take a walk?" he asked quietly.

Usually Barney would be up when he heard them stir, but the dog lay sleeping soundly.

"Guess it's just me then," Ricky said as he stood up and looked around. There was a full moon, so he didn't need a flashlight to see and he wasn't going to go very far anyway.

He carefully picked his way through the trees towards the lake and then sighed as he took care of business.

He was about to go back to the camp site when a noise from the lake caught his attention. He carefully crept closer to the tree line and looked out. The scene before him was almost surreal and he wondered if he was actually awake and not in some strange dream.

The john boat belonging to the men camped across the lake was now anchored to this side, partially in the water, the motor still running.

One of the men was holding Mrs. Mayweather and her younger daughter at gun point, talking quietly to them, demanding to know who they were and where the other daughter was.

A few moments later, Mr. Wilson staggered into the open area, a bottle clutched in his hand, waving and smiling broadly at the man. "Joe…." He slurred. "Good to see ya…" he got out before he tripped and sprawled in the dirt.

The man glanced at him and then turned his attention back to Mrs. Mayweather and her daughter.

The moment he did, Mr. Wilson quietly stood, pulling a thin knife out of his pocket, and walked up to the man, delivering a quick thrust to the man's lower back. The man let out a sigh and then collapsed as Mrs. Mayweather took the gun out of his hand.

"Where's the other one?" Wilson asked her.

Mrs. Mayweather shook her head. "He left earlier. The black team was following him, but they lost him about an hour ago."

Wilson looked over at the boys' campsite, frowning. "He could be headed back here."

"You want us to wake them up?" Mrs. Mayweather asked.

"No, not yet. Just keep eyes on," Wilson replied. "We won't go to red unless we have to."

Mrs. Mayweather nodded and handed her daughter the gun in her hand.

Sheila chambered a round and then tucked the gun in a holster hidden in her pants.

Ricky swallowed thickly and started to back away, when he bumped into something. A hand was clamped over his mouth to silence him.

"Sorry, kid," said Tiffany, holding a gun with a silencer on it in her other hand. "You shouldn't have seen that. A rough introduction to the life. Now let's get you back to your tent."

They quietly made their way through the woods, Ricky's eyes wide as she pulled him along.

As they stepped into the camp sight, Tiffany stared at the dog lying in the fire circle. "Does he usually sleep that hard?"

Ricky shook his head. "No, not usually."

Tiffany put her finger to her lips. "Shhhh," she whispered, slowly looking around. "Is the truck unlocked?" she asked finally.

Ricky nodded and whispered back. "Yeah, we don't lock it when we're here."

"Good," she said, holding her gun to the ready as they crossed the clearing. She quietly opened the truck door and helped Ricky climb inside. "Lock the doors and don't unlock them for anyone. We'll be back in a little while."

Ricky locked the doors and watched her walk away, shrinking down onto the floor board, wondering if he was dreaming that he was a spy again, but he really didn't like this dream.

After a while, he saw several flashes of light in the distance, really strange lightning that was parallel to the ground, rather than perpendicular.

Moments later, there was a loud thud as a bloody hand hit the driver's side window.

"Kid, you open this door immediately," said the other man, pointing a gun at him.

Ricky could only sit there shivering and stare at the man.

"Do it now, or I swear I'll blow your little head off." The man raised his gun and Ricky saw the red light clearly through the window as he aimed it at him. "Now, kid."

Suddenly the outside of the window was splattered with blood and parts as the man slammed against it.

Tiffany stood behind the man, watching as he slowly slid to the ground, and then raised a thumbs up at Ricky.

# # # # # # # #

_***Present Day***_

Beckett set almost breathless as she listened to Castle's retelling of the fateful camping trip.

"And then," he continued, frowning slightly. "The strangest thing happened."

Beckett cocked her head at him – what he had told her wasn't strange enough already?

"This black van pulled up and these men with masks on got out and took the body, and then cleaned the side of the truck where all the blood had been." He looked at Beckett. "And Mrs. Mayweather, the girls, and the other man left. It was like it never happened – like I dreamt the whole thing."

"Rick, in all this time, you never told anyone about this?" Beckett asked, suddenly concerned at the implication.

Castle shook his head. "It was so surreal and I was known for having such a vivid imagination that I wasn't sure anyone would believe me. And I did have a beer earlier in the evening and didn't want to get Ralph and Tim in trouble because of that." He paused a moment. "And then there was this incident the next morning…" he said in a small voice.

"Go on," Beckett encouraged.

Castle looked almost embarrassed. "I don't know how long I sat there in the truck, but right at daybreak, this storm rolled through and the tents started leaking, so Ralph and the others ran to the truck. Well, the doors were locked and they started beating on them – I was so scared that the dead man had come back to get me that I kinda…wet my pants a little – really a lot.

"I didn't want to tell them what happened, so when I reached to open the door, I accidentally spilled the drink Ralph had left in the cup holder on my pants so they couldn't tell."

Beckett kept the smile off of her face. This was serious – if Castle had been telling the truth, if it hadn't been a dream, someone had tried to kill him when he was 11.

"But the more I think about it now, I think the man who taught me to fly fish was my father. And we've seen how well they clean up after themselves." Castle looked at the lake. "And if they really were CIA and Jenkins is CIA, then he might have heard about this from my father – I might not have told him about this as proof that I wanted to have my memory erased."

Beckett nodded and moved to sit beside him. "We'll figure this out," she said as she smiled at him, putting her hand against his cheek.

Castle closed his eyes and leaned into her hand and then turned his face to kiss her palm. "Thank you," he said. "For understanding, for being there for me."

Beckett smiled as she touched her forehead to his. "Always."

# # # # # # # #

Jenkins looked at the blip on the map and then at Hunt. "He's at the lake."

"Good," said Hunt.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Jenkins asked.

Hunt nodded. "Richard has always had to know the answer – solve the mystery – even when told no. He's doing exactly what we want him to do."

"So if it goes south, he gets the blame?" Jenkins asked.

Hunt nodded again. "That's the plan. Let's just hope it doesn't go south."

# # # # # # # #


	4. Chapter 4 Martha's Revelation

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x02 AU. After finding the fake Henry Jenkins, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. First is Cardano's testimony. Then she feels that Espo doubts Castle. Next, Castle tells her what happened in Hollander's Woods and his doubts about what the fake Jenkins told him in Montreal. Chapter 4 deals with what Martha knows.

Author's Note: Totally AU – Several people have said they think Martha knows something she's not telling because she cuts the conversation short whenever the mystery is brought up and what if she does? And sorry if I've been referring to Jenkins as Gibson – don't know where that came from. And hmmm, this is turning out to be a real story when it was supposed to be a one-shot.

# # # # # # # #

**Chapter 4 – Martha's Revelation**

# # # # # # # #

On the ride back, Castle was much more relaxed now that he knew that Beckett actually believed him and didn't think he was delusional because of what had happened to him, that she wouldn't drop him like a proverbial hot potato, leaving a ruined mess in her wake.

But that didn't make what he had to do next any easier and that was to tell his mother what had happened to him all those years ago and why he had kept it a secret.

Fortunately, Martha was in for the evening, having already broken up with Robert, the man she met at the grief support group while Castle was missing. Apparently grieving for more than a few weeks wasn't in her DNA, especially now that she had a reason not to.

She was lounging on the couch, sipping a glass of red wine, when they walked into the loft. "So, kiddo, how was the picnic?" she asked, waving at them.

"Good," said Castle, nodding.

Beckett gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Do you want a glass of wine?" she asked as she nudged him towards his mother.

"Yeah, Vodka," Castle said distractedly, quoting what she had once said to him in an awkward situation. "Lots of vodka."

He gave her a quick kiss back and then walked over to the couch, wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his pants before he sat down.

"Mom, there's something I need to tell you," he said, taking one of Martha's hand in both of his.

"Oh, this sounds serious," said Martha, frowning slightly. "Is everything okay?" she asked quickly, looking at Beckett who put 2 glasses of wine on the coffee table and then sat down next to Castle.

Beckett smiled as she rested a hand on his leg, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We're good."

Castle paused before beginning. "Mom, do you remember when I was 11 – the last time we went camping in Hollander's Woods that February?"

Martha frowned and nodded in response. "I was doing matinees on Saturday and Sunday and you went with Ralph, Tim, and Kenny. Why?" she asked, suddenly anxious. "What happened?"

Castle looked away for a moment and then back at Martha. "For a long time, I thought it was just a dream – rather a nightmare because Ralph let us drink beer while we were there."

"Richard!" Martha exclaimed.

Castle held up his hand to stop her. "He usually let us share one, but on that trip, he was distracted, so Kenny and I each had one Saturday night."

He stood up and started pacing, carefully laying the groundwork for what he was going to tell his mother so she wouldn't have a heart attack or stroke on the spot.

"It hadn't been the best week in school for me – once again – and I had been reading a lot of spy books because Ms. Huenta wouldn't let me go outside during break. Then, when we got there, we told a lot of ghost stories – you know, scary stuff about things that go bump in the night – I thought my imagination was working overtime and I was a little buzzed, so for a while, I wasn't sure that anything had really happened. I'm not sure I really believe now that something happened – that I just didn't imagine the whole thing. And of course, I didn't know who my dad was."

Castle sat back down, licking his lips, and looked at Martha. "There were some other people at the lake – a woman and her two daughters, and then two men across the lake, and another man." He took a deep breath.

"I think the two men were there to kidnap me and the other people stopped them – they killed them," Castle said, searching his mother's face to see if she believed him.

He watched the color drain out of Martha's face as tears formed in her eyes. "Oh, Richard, I am so sorry," she said finally. "If I had thought you had been in any danger, I wouldn't have sent you up there in the first place."

Beckett frowned. "Martha, you knew about this?"

Martha shook her head. "No, no – not exactly. But I knew something was wrong. Richard's school contacted me earlier that week and said we needed to meet to discuss something important. And since it was Richard, I thought they were going to ask him to leave."

# # # # # # # #

_***Flashback***_

Martha dressed in her most conservative dress, which for her was still a little over the top, and thought about what Richard had told her about school in the past couple of weeks, trying to pinpoint exactly why they had called her for meeting.

Richard seemed to be prospering in Ms. Huenta's class, making straight A's and not having too many conduct marks. He was even looking forward to school every day, rather than fighting it like he had done last year when he had a stricter teacher.

But this year had been different – she was touring and sometimes had to take him on the road with her – so maybe they were calling to warn her about his excess absences.

Or maybe it was something else entirely different, she thought, as Richard walked out of his room, his robe still on, hair in disarray.

"Is it a school holiday?" she asked as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Oh, mom, you're up," he said like she had caught him with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

She smiled at him. Sometimes he sounded so grown up, rather than the 11 year old boy he was.

"And you're not dressed for school," Martha commented. "It's Wednesday. School day."

Richard sat down at the breakfast table, resting his chin on his hands, rolling his eyes. "School is soooooo boring," he said dramatically.

"Anything I should know about that prompted this sudden distaste?" Martha prompted.

"It's my week to take care of Hannibal and I thought I did okay on Monday, but then Ms. Huenta let Taryn do it yesterday. And she won't let me go outside during break."

"I see," nodded Martha. "And that's why it's boring?" She reached forward and lifted her son's chin up so she could look him in the eyes. "Richard, we've talked about this before. My job is in the theater – your job is to go to school."

"That's so not fair," he whined, sitting back with a huff.

"Fair or not, that's life, kiddo," said Martha. She pointed to his room. "Now go get dressed. I'll drop you off at school."

Richard looked at her through slightly squinted eyes, as if seeing her for the first time. "You've got a meeting?" he asked worriedly.

"With a producer," she said, gently cupping his face with her hand and smiling at him.

Martha waited for Richard to walk to his classroom before turning and walking to the principal's office. The secretary said that Mr. Carver and Ms. Huenta were waiting for her. This didn't bode well, she thought as she walked into the room.

"Ms. Rogers, thank you for coming," said Carver as he stood up and offered his hand.

Martha smiled at him as they shook hands. She looked at Ms. Huenta. "Camelia," she nodded. Parenting Richard involved talking to his teachers so much that she was usually on a first name basis with them.

"Martha, how are you?" Camelia asked.

"I'm not sure," said Martha. "You said you needed to see me about Richard? Now, I'm sure whatever he's done can be explained."

"Oh, no," Camelia replied, gently touching her arm. "It's not a problem with Richard. He is a very bright boy – a little headstrong and imaginative at times, but it's nothing we can't work through." She gave Carver a pointed look.

"Ms. Rogers," he said, hesitating for a moment. "Is there a problem at home that we need to know about? Maybe a custody dispute between you and your ex-husband?"

Martha shook her head, thoroughly confused. "No. Why?"

Carver took a breath. "Last Friday and this Monday, we had a photographer here to take new photos for our school brochure. And while he was doing that, he noticed that there were 2 men outside the school taking photos. When he saw them Friday, he simply thought they were tourists interested in the architecture. But then he saw them again on Monday and realized they were taking pictures of the children outside the school. They seemed to be focusing on just one child though – your son."

"Oh," said Martha, looking worried.

Carver took several pictures out of an envelope and laid them on his desk for her to look at.

One man wearing a hat and dark glasses stood in the shade of the trees across the street from the entrance. The other man was sitting in a dark car. Both had cameras with telephoto lenses trained on the school.

"Do you recognize either of them?" Carver asked.

"No, no," said Martha shaking her head as she studied the pictures. She looked up at him. "Are you sure they were taking pictures of Richard?"

"Yes, we are," Carver responded. "On Monday morning, the photographer went across the street to take a picture from the same direction that the man had been taking it."

He pulled out that picture and showed it to Martha. She could clearly see Richard playing with several other boys on the grounds.

"The photographer was out there several hours and said they only took pictures when Richard was outside," said Camelia. "And then Monday afternoon, when I let him clean Hannibal's cage outside, I went upstairs and looked out the window. The men were still there with their cameras. At that point, we called the police, but the men left when they saw the squad car. They haven't been back. I didn't want to take any chances, so I haven't let Richard outside during the day since then."

Carver smiled slightly at Martha. "Ms. Rogers, we take the safety of our children very seriously, so any information you can give us will certainly help."

Martha nodded and frowned at the pictures. "Richard's father isn't in the picture – in fact, I don't know how to contact him." She thought for a moment. "I'm in a new play, so it just might be reporters?" she said hopefully.

Carver nodded. "It might be, but we just want to be sure."

"Thank you, I appreciate your concern," said Martha. "Will let you let me know if they show up again? And may I have those pictures?"

"Of course. The photographer made several sets – we already given one to the police," said Carver as he put the pictures back in the envelope and handed them to her.

"Thank you again," said Martha. She turned and walked out of the office, thoughts racing.

Why were strange men taking pictures of her son? Was Richard's father trying to find him? And if he found him, what would happen?

She looked back at the school, wondering who she could turn to for help.

_***End of Flashback***_

# # # # # # # #

"I am so sorry, Richard. I should have protected you better." Martha wiped her eyes with the tissue that Beckett handed her. "I knew something was wrong when you came back, but I just thought it was because the Myers were selling Hollander's Woods and the boys were moving to LA." She placed a hand on his cheek. "Oh, Richard, why didn't you tell me what happened?"

Castle shook his head. "I don't know. For the longest time, I thought it was just a strange dream from the beer I drank. I'm so sorry, Mom – I should have told you."

"Martha, do you still have the pictures?" Beckett asked suddenly.

"Yes, yes, I do," said Martha, standing up quickly and hurrying to her room.

She came back a few minutes later with a brown envelope. "Here," she said, handing it to Castle.

Beckett moved the wine glasses out of the way as Castle pulled the pictures out of the envelope and laid them on the table. "Do you recognize them?"

He studied them for a few minutes before picking one up – the picture of the man in the shade of the trees – and then looked up, staring in the distance.

The memory was disjointed – strange horizontal lightning; the bloody hand slamming into the truck window; the man leering with a gun pointed at him, threatening him; then the red as the window was painted with blood.

He shivered at the memory. "Yeah, I think this was the guy at the truck." He looked at the man in the car with the camera and shook his head. "I don't recognize this man – he wasn't the other man at the lake."

"Oh, Richard," Martha said in a quivery voice. "I am so sorry," she said, closing her eyes tightly and then opening them again, a determined look on her face. "Richard, do you think this has anything to do with your father? With what he does?"

Castle swallowed and shrugged. When he was growing up, he thought it would be cool to have a super spy for a father – now that he knew better, knew the reality of the situation, he didn't think so at all.

"I don't know." He took Martha's hand in his again. "But he was there, Mom – he saved my life." He looked down before continuing. "He killed one of the men."

"Oh, darling, and you saw that?" Martha said, breaking out into fresh tear.

Castle gathered his mother into his arms as she wept.

# # # # # # # #

"So how's she doing?" Beckett asked as she walked into Castle's office.

Castle sat back in his chair, a box of pictures on the desk in front of him. "It's a lot to take in, but she's resilient – she'll be okay," he said.

"And how are you?" Beckett asked, walking up to him and brushing the hair back from his forehead.

"Oh," he said, pulling her closer. "It's a lot to take in, but I'm resilient – I'll be okay."

Beckett smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. She rested her forehead against his for a minute and then pulled back, looking at the pictures. "So what are these?"

"These are pictures that we took during our camping trips at Hollander's Woods. I haven't looked at them since that weekend, but I thought that maybe there might be some clues here."

He picked up a sealed envelope and opened it, pulling out the pictures. "Kenny sent me these – he took those during our last trip there and I never opened them. I was afraid at what they'd show – that it wasn't real and I had imagined the whole thing, or that it was real and I hadn't imagined the whole thing."

Castle looked at each picture and gave a running commentary. "That's Kenny, and Ralph, and Tim. And that's Mrs. Mayweather and her daughters." He turned the picture over and looked at the names that had been written on the back. "Tiffany and Sheila."

The pictures could have been taken on any camping trip – the younger boys standing by the lake fishing, skipping rocks, wrestling with each other; the older boys talking with the girls, roasting marshmallows with the girls; the girls giggling at the older boys; Mrs. Mayweather cooking…

Castle shook his head. "I don't see anything though that could explain what happened. The men aren't in these pictures." He sat back and thought. "But their boat was gone all day, so they may have been at the other end of the lake. It was really large back then."

Beckett picked up one of the other pictures and studied it. "They had already sold off some of the land?" she asked, looking at the skeletons of houses in the distance.

"Yeah," Castle replied. "They had started clearing the forest near the entrance and putting up frames." He sat back with a guilty smirk. "But Kenny and I fixed them – at least to our 11 year old minds, we did." He picked up a picture that showed a much larger lake with a dock near the end where they had been camping. "Since the lake was cold, the building crew would hide their beers on a stringer in the lake and mark the location using a stick with a piece of vinyl ribbon on it. Whenever we found them, we'd take the beers and throw them off the dock so they couldn't have them." He let out a huff. "We really thought we were getting justice for Hollander's Woods. But it didn't stop anything."

Beckett leaned against him again. "I'm sure it really pissed the workers off though."

"Yeah, maybe they're back seeking revenge," Castle said as he put his arms around her waist, holding her for a moment.

"Let's have Tory see what she can find using the pictures Martha had," Beckett commented after a moment.

Castle nodded. "Sounds good to me."

"But," said Beckett, leaning down to kiss him again. "That can wait until tomorrow. I think I might want to take my own photos tonight."

# # # # # # # #


	5. Chapter 5 Coffee and a Handshake

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x02 AU. After finding the fake Henry Jenkins, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle.

Author's Note: Totally AU – Okay, so this is partially crack fic for a Monday but one of the scenes just wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to. We'll get back to serious in the next chapter.

# # # # # # # #

**Chapter 5 – Coffee and a Handshake**

# # # # # # # #

Beckett stirred as the blissful scent of coffee hit her olfactory senses. She blinked her eyes opened and looked around the room. By the light coming from the windows, it was well after sunrise but what caught her attention was the breakfast tray sitting on the nightstand next to his side of the bed.

Castle had apparently already made good use of their Saturday off and gotten up early to fix breakfast consisting of her favorite coffee and … emergency cheering up pancakes? She eyed them suspiciously as she picked up the large envelope lying on his pillow.

His note 'going out for a run' was attached to the envelope. Beckett frowned – since when did Castle ever go out for a run willingly? For that matter, since when did Castle start running?

She opened the envelope and slid out the bound manuscript that was inside. _Tropical Storm_ the title read.

Beckett put the manuscript back down and scooted over to his side of the bed, adjusting the pillow behind her back so she could read and drink her coffee at the same time.

She took a sip from the cup as she flipped the cover page over.

# # # # # # # #

After several hours of reading, with emotions ranging from utter disbelief at the weather machine built by the evil scientist to the gut clenching terror at the description of the tsunami, Beckett finished the book, slid it back into the envelope, and leaned back against the headboard.

Castle had been right about two things. It had been bad – very, very bad – so bad in fact, that she quickly learned not to sip her coffee and read at the same time in fear of spewing the contents out of her mouth when she laughed at the absurdity of it all, and she was sure that wasn't the reaction he was going for.

And the tsunami scene was so realistic that she might even have some minor misgivings about vacationing someplace where they could occur. She could see how it would affect someone with Castle's active imagination though and he definitely wouldn't have pitched a tent where it had been set up.

She smiled as she hugged the envelope to her chest. He had shared it with her and that was what mattered the most. It said something about where their relationship was now, that he had been able to share what he had shared recently with her.

Beckett cocked her head and listened – she could hear someone puttering around the kitchen. Probably Castle, she thought, since Martha was at a spa for the day, a treat from Castle to relax her nerves, and Alexis has a study session at the library.

She hopped out of bed, pulled on a robe, and then picked up her empty coffee cup before walking to the bedroom door and opening it quietly.

She watched him silently for several moments as he cleaned the kitchen, obviously taking his time to give her time, and then walked over to him, giving him a hug from the back.

"So did you have a good run?" she asked.

Castle turned so that he was facing her, a slight smile on his face. "More like a meander," he replied and then hesitated. "So how was your morning?"

"My favorite author left me a new book to read," she replied.

"And…?" Castle prompted.

"Well," said Beckett as she moved away slightly to stand by the counter, placing her coffee cup on it and looking at him. "His initial assessment was correct – not one of his best. But the tsunami scene – very believable and spine tingling. I can see why someone would be…nervous about them now."

"It's all in the research," Castle replied as he poured her another cup of coffee.

Beckett picked the cup up and carefully inhaled the aroma as she crinkled her nose. "But the weather stuff – that's a little over the top."

"Actually that's true too – well, sort of," Castle said as he sipped his coffee. He paused for a moment. "Sometimes when we were camping at Hollander's Woods, we'd run into this guy we'd call the professor. We never knew his name, but we were sure he was some sort of evil genius because he'd shoot rockets into the clouds and create rain. He once even created pink snow. It was awesome."

Beckett nodded. "Uh, huh."

"We swore he could even make the clouds disappear," Castle remarked.

"Uh, huh," said Beckett, nodding again.

She frowned as her phone rang.

"Don't pick that up," Castle mouthed at her.

"It's Lanie," she mouthed back. "What's up?" she asked as she answered the phone. "They could? Yeah, yeah, that's great. I can be there in an hour."

It was Castle's turn to look curious at the delighted smile on Beckett's glowing face as she hung up the phone.

"That was Lanie," she said, walking over to him and giving him a hug. "I need to go over to her place without you asking any questions – please, please, please, please, please?" she asked, now that it was her turn to beg. "I'll only be gone a couple of hours."

"Oh, all right," Castle pouted. "I do need to get some writing done today. Maybe I can use some of the stuff from Tropical Storm…" he thought out loud and then waggled his eyebrows at her. "You know, make it into Tropical Heat?"

"As long as you don't have the evil genius almost destroy the world," Beckett said as she leaned in to kiss him. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Want some help? We could create some heat of our own," Castle offered.

"Then I'd never get there," said Beckett as she kissed him again and walked off towards their bedroom.

# # # # # # # #

Beckett almost skipped with joy as she walked up the steps to Lanie's apartment.

Lanie had done it without her permission several days after Castle had gone missing, had taken her wedding dress to a friend in the dry cleaning business. It had been a long shot, but they said they would try to fix it.

The cleaners had carefully removed all evidence her tumbled rush down the hill to get to the burning car, the water that had rained down on her as the fire was put out. They worked a miracle and had restored the dress to its original glory.

And now, Castle was back and the dress was ready to be worn once again.

She was about to knock on the door when Epso opened it.

Beckett frowned at him. She knew Lanie and Espo were close once again, but hadn't expected to see him here, especially not with the worried look on his face.

"Javi, what's wrong?" Beckett asked as she walked into the apartment and then looked over at Lanie. "They couldn't fix the dress?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Lanie shook her head. "No, the dress is perfect," she said, reassuring her on that matter.

"Then what?" Beckett asked.

Espo pursed his lips before beginning, fingering a USB drive in his hand. "A friend of mine is a helo pilot for special forces. Said he can't go into details, but he sent me this recording of a night drop he made about 2 months ago during a mission. He thought it might mean something."

Beckett stared at the drive that he held it out to her. "Have you listened to it?"

Espo shook his head. "No. I thought it was something you'd want to hear in private."

Lanie took Espo's arm. "We're going out for lunch and will be back in a little while. Call me if you need anything."

Beckett nodded, finally taking the drive and pushing her hair behind her ear. "Thanks. I will."

Lanie and Espo walked out of the apartment as Beckett walked to the laptop waiting on the counter and stuck the drive in.

When the window came up, she clicked on play. It was just a recording, no video, but there was one voice that she knew immediately.

"5 minutes to drop zone," said the first voice.

"Roger that," said a second voice. She listened closer – that could be Jenkins.

There was a moment of silence and then a third voice said, "When I get back, first thing I'm gonna do is have a steak – the big, thick juicy kind barely flamed kiss."

"Yeah, I hear you," said the fourth voice. "I'm going scuba diving – found the best reef last year off this little island."

More silence. "What about you, writer man?" the third voice said. "What are you going to do when you get back?"

More silence and then, "Have coffee – two pumps sugar free vanilla – and a handshake," came the voice she was intimately familiar with, now tinged with sadness.

"Really?" came the fourth voice. "I'd thought you'd be more action-oriented, if you get my drift – with those books you write."

"Nope, just coffee and a handshake," replied Castle.

"2 minutes to drop zone," said the first voice.

"Okay – we stick to the plan. No improvising unless absolutely necessary," said the second voice. "Castle, just identify the man and we'll take care of the rest. And no improvising on your part at all."

"Improvise what?" Castle asked. "Someone tried to kill me on my wedding day, you told me I couldn't say no, and now I have no clue where we are, but I'm about to jump out of a helicopter at night with the Marine beefcake calendar."

Several voices replied "Hey!" to the last comment.

"Good. The less you know, the better when this is over. Our contact will have the information for us," said Jenkins. "You sure you remember how to do this?"

"Yeah," replied Castle, but now his voice was laced with sarcasm. "Scream like a girl and wet my pants while jumping out of a perfectly good helicopter – I think I have that down pat."

"1 minute to drop zone," said the first voice.

"Well, you said you wanted the whole experience," said Jenkins.

"I think I've grown a few brain cells since then," Castle said. "Besides, it wasn't my fault. I was about to jump when the man wearing the helmet pushed me out and it was dark and I didn't know how far up we were."

"Your old man thought you were holding up the line," Jenkins replied simply.

"What?!" Castle exclaimed in disbelief. "That was my father? Then it's a good thing he wasn't around when I learned to swim – he'd probably pushed me into the deep end to see if I could float. Or made me swim with sharks to see how fast I could swim. Or when I learned to drive – he'd probably—" His words were cut off in a loud, receding scream.

"He said you talked too much," said Jenkins as the recording ended.

# # # # # # # #


	6. Chapter 6 A Whole New Ball Game

FRC – Evidence Be D#mned

Summary – Post 7x02 AU. After finding the fake Henry Jenkins lied, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. This is my version about where it leads them.

Author's Note: Totally AU – Sorry for the delay and I haven't abandoned this fic – just had a bad case of trying to figure out where this story wants to go and real life interruptus. And I think the minutiae of my day job sucked my brains dry for a while. And then my laptop wouldn't come out of hibernation mode Monday so that I could write. So that day was totally weird except that Castle was on. And now it's Friday about to be November – where does the time go? ("He's best with rhetorical questions.")

# # # # # # # #

**Chapter 6 – A Whole New Ball Game**

# # # # # # # #

For the 12th, the last two weeks had been plagued by cases of the non-entertaining kind as Castle frequently referred to them – the usual assortment of murders of passion and convenience where the paperwork took more time to complete than finding the perp and getting a confession.

And now that they finally had a 'juicy' one, Castle was going to be stuck in meetings with Black Pawn all day, he pouted as they dressed after an early morning steamy shower, quickly making up for the two months that they were apart.

A man had been found dead near the entrance of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, apparently murdered by being shot repeatedly with glass jars of mandarin oranges from the street based on the debris surrounding his body.

Apparently, it was a 'drive-by fruiting', Castle quipped, quoting on of his favorite movie lines, as he opened the loft door for Beckett.

He made her promise to text him with updates from the case while he pondered his latest contract with the agency.

A quick kiss in the garage sent each on their way, Beckett in her squad car and Castle to the waiting car service.

# # # # # # # #

Beckett parked her car behind the yellow tape that cordoned off the plaza in front of the museum and started her ritual for approaching the crime scene. Only that ritual was slightly off again because her partner wasn't with her, giving her a sense of déjà vu of the way it had been the two months Castle wasn't there.

Just because Castle had been missing then didn't mean that the murders had stopped and she didn't have a job to do. They had given her something concrete to latch on to – some sense of fulfillment when she hit dead ends in her search for him.

As Beckett shut the car door, she looked at the crowd of gawkers gathered across the street and let out a frustrated breath. Several people had their cell phones out, taking pictures, watching with perverse curiosity as CSI scoped out the crime scene.

And as much as she didn't like it, the pictures might provide useful leads in the case. She'd send Ryan and Espo over there to see if anyone was taking pictures when the body was found and they could sweet talk them out of them.

"Hey, Lanie," Beckett said as she walked up to the ME who knelt by the covered body that was propped up next to the trash can several feet from the front door.

The ME was carefully taking samples while she avoided the broken glasses and smashed fruit that surrounded the victim.

"And good morning to you too," commented Lanie, looking up at her friend. "You seem to be glowing today."

Beckett's only comment was a slight smirk as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear with a gloved hand. "So what do you have?" she asked, not bothering to kneel down.

Lanie partially lifted the sheet covering the body so that Beckett could see the face. "The vic is a male, Oriental, probably mid-30's. No id. Single GSW directly to the heart. Looks like he was killed about 4 hours ago. The bruising is post-mortem and the lack of blood suggests that he was killed elsewhere and staged here," the ME said as she lowered the sheet and then raised another part of it to show one of the man's hand. "But the interesting thing is his hands. There are thin white lines on each finger that suggests he's had his finger prints surgically altered within the last couple of years."

Beckett frowned. "So our John Doe didn't want to be identified."

Lanie nodded. "Looks like it. Maybe dental records will give us something."

"Thanks," said Beckett as she saw Ryan and Espo talking with a policeman near the edge of the sidewalk.

"Morning," she said as she walked up to them. "What do you have so far?"

Ryan flipped open his pad. "The cleaning crew found the man behind the trash can by the front door about 6:30 am." He pointed towards the front of the museum. "Security is sending us the video from the surveillance cameras, but there was a power outage that lasted for about 30 seconds around 5:50 am. The guard had just made his outside round before it happened so that could be when the body was placed there."

Beckett frowned and then nodded towards the crowd. "Why don't you check with them to see if anyone was in the area at the time and saw something?" She looked at her watch – 7:30 was not an uncommon start to the day in the town that never sleeps.

She looked back up and then froze when she thought she saw Castle in the distance, carrying two cups of coffee, as several vans stopped at the light at the corner, blocking her view.

Her stomach clenched in that all too familiar ache. It had happened several times when he was missing – she thought she'd see him in the distance and would rush after the person, only to find out it just someone who looked like him.

But then when the light changed and the vans moved, the mirage was gone.

Beckett closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. Of course Castle wouldn't be here – he was in meetings with Black Pawn – it was just her imagination playing tricks on her.

Espo frowned at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," said Beckett, nodding. "Just let me know what you find." Her phone chirped and she pulled it out, quickly glancing at the caller ID. Yes, this was going to be a long day if Captain Gates was already in the office.

"Beckett," she answered. "Yes, sir. I'll be right there."

She ended the call and then sent Castle a text message to meet her at the 12th immediately.

# # # # # # # #

The day had started out normal for Captain Victoria "Iron" Gates. She caught up on the news during her morning jog on her treadmill and usual power breakfast – nothing out of the ordinary had happened so far.

But all that was before the police commission gave her a courtesy call to let her know the maelstrom coming her way. At that point, the day ratcheted up into high gear.

Apparently something Tori Ellis was doing had caused a brouhaha at some government agency that had reached all the way to the US State Department and the commissioner's inside sources told him "they" were now on their way to the 12th to speak to her.

A quick call to Ellis answered some of Gates' questions but learning who instigated the search did not improve her mood at all.

She showered, pulled her still wet hair back in a ponytail, and quickly dressed. This was her watch and she'd be damned if she let any agency interrogate her people without her being there.

Fortunately traffic was light and she pulled up to the back of the precinct building at the same time that the coffee vendor arrived and was unloading supplies onto a hand cart.

She had the front desk stall the two men from the unnamed agency so that she could talk to Beckett first to get the facts before confronting them.

# # # # # # # #

Tori Ellis was good at her job – in fact, she rocked at her job. She could track almost anything using her favorite method of pursuit – technology and all that it offered.

In another reality, she might have been a successful hacker if she didn't believe in truth and justice.

But now, she was frustrated, and the more frustrated she became, the more time she spent trying to identify the men in the pictures that Castle and Beckett had given her last week, which meant late nights and early mornings for this side project.

Based on the date printed on the back of the photos, they had been taken 31 years ago in New York City.

The photographer wasn't any help in identifying the men. He had retired many years ago, shredding his files and negatives before moving to balmy Florida. He did remember the photographs though because of the circumstances surrounding them.

Using her connections, Ellis searched several databases that she had legal access at work and then a few that she didn't have legal access to at home, hoping for a match.

But she hadn't found the men and had come to the conclusion that she may literally be chasing ghosts – those men who didn't exist on paper.

Therefore Ellis was not surprised when Captain Gates called her into her office that morning and asked her to bring the pictures she had been researching.

What did surprise her were the two men in severe black suits waiting there, one in his late 50's and the other in his early 60's. They definitely weren't here for a social visit based on the dour looks on their faces.

And Gates and Beckett didn't look very happy either.

"Ms. Ellis, this is Mr. Weatherby from the US State Department," she said, nodding towards the man in his late 50's, "and Director Tremblay of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service," she continued, nodding towards the man in his early 60's. "They have a warrant to take possession of the pictures you've been researching."

"Excuse me?" Ellis said in astonishment as she took the document that Beckett handed her and scanned it.

"Your facial recognition search triggered several alerts in our system," stated Tremblay without preamble. "We want those pictures and we need to know who gave them to you."

Ellis looked at Gates, who nodded at her. "Mr. Castle and Detective Beckett," she answered.

Tremblay looked at Beckett. "And how did you and Mr. Castle acquire those pictures?" he asked.

Beckett pushed her hair behind her ear. If they were only interested in the pictures, that's all the information she would give them until Castle got here.

"They were taken in New York City about 31 years ago," she replied. "The men were outside a school, taking pictures of the children there. A photographer on assignment noticed them and took the pictures. The school gave them to Castle's mother since he was one of the children being photographed."

"And are these the originals?" Tremblay asked as he took the pictures from Ellis.

"No, these are copies," Beckett replied.

Tremblay nodded. "We'll need the originals also."

"Why – who are these men?" asked Beckett.

Weatherby shot Tremblay a look; he paused for a second before answering.

"The two men in the pictures were agents for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Security Service – Alfred Morin and Ross Burns," said Weatherby. "They disappeared 29 years ago while on assignment here in the United States. These pictures may hold some clue to their disappearance."

Beckett could only stare at the man – well, this was now a whole new ball game.

# # # # # # # #


	7. Chapter 7 Spy vs Spy

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x02 AU. After finding the fake Henry Jenkins lied, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. This is my version about where it leads them.

Author's Note: Totally AU – So maybe my brain is working again. No, wait – my job just sucked it dry again – or maybe it's the end of daylight savings time, but it's nice not having to drive to work in the dark. Sigh, no Castle tonight. Bummer, dude.

# # # # # # # #

**Chapter 7 – Spy vs Spy**

# # # # # # # #

"Those men were spies?" Beckett asked incredulously, thinking back to Castle's comment of 'It's Canada.' and the implied, 'Just how bad could that be?' Apparently, bad enough it turned out.

Weatherby shrugged. "That was the term back then. Now we call them assets."

"But why were they here in the US taking pictures of Mr. Castle as a child?" Captain Gates asked, frowning at the two men.

Beckett held her breath momentarily, waiting for the men to respond, and then nodded in agreement with Gates. "We might be able to help if we had more information," she prompted, trying the good cop technique.

"They were investigating a theft at a research lab in Montreal," replied Tremblay finally.

"Of what?" Beckett asked when he stopped.

"That's classified information," Tremblay responded. He looked at her. "So, Detective Beckett, what do you know about the pictures?"

Now it was Beckett's turn to stall – she shrugged noncommittally. She had an answer but didn't like how the scenario played out. In addition, she wasn't sure that this was the right place to share what she knew. Where was that panic button on her phone when she needed it? Right now, diversion might be the best tactic until she could talk to Castle and decide on the best plan of action.

"Just that the school that Castle was attending at the time hired a photographer to take pictures of the building for a brochure and the man saw those men taking pictures and took the pictures of them because he thought it was strange. The school thought it might be a custody battle."

Weatherby frowned slightly. "Mr. Castle's birth certificate doesn't list a father."

Beckett frowned at the fact the man knew that. "No, it doesn't."

"It's important we talk to Mr. Castle immediately," Tremblay stated.

"He's meeting with his publisher this morning. I've left a message so he should be calling back when they take a break," Beckett replied, thinking quickly. She didn't want to tell them that Gina usually confiscated Castle's phone during the meetings so that he wouldn't be distracted by Angry Birds. How could she sneak out and warn Castle about what was happening?

"Why don't we move to the conference room while we wait for Mr. Castle?" Gates suggested politely as if reading her mind. The Captain opened her door and directed the men out. "Ms. Ellis, could you take them to the break room for some coffee and then show them to the conference room?"

"Of course, sir," Ellis nodded and motioned for the men to follow her, which they did reluctantly.

Gates turned back to Beckett as soon as the men were out of earshot and hissed, "I don't care how you do it, but have Mr. Castle get his ass down here immediately. Send a squad car if you have to."

"Yes, sir," Beckett said, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear as she walked to her desk. She pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed the number of Gina's secretary, only to get a busy signal. She tried several other numbers that she had to Black Pawn, but they all rang busy.

She huffed in annoyance as she called LT to go pick Castle up, telling him to get the writer here as soon as possible, but it wasn't an emergency so they didn't need to turn on the gumball and the siren because she knew that Castle would try to talk him into it.

Beckett started to walk into the conference room and froze.

The two coffee vendors, each wearing a baseball hat and dark glasses, had guns drawn and were aiming them at the two other men, Gates, and Ellis, all of whom held their hands in the air.

"Detective Beckett," said one of the coffee vendors quietly, "please step inside and shut the blinds and then close the doors."

Beckett put her hands in the air and moved slowly, doing as the man said.

"And now, we'll do this one at a time – slowly pull out your service piece and place it on the table and then move away, starting with you, Mr. Tremblay," the first coffee vendor instructed.

Beckett's eyes narrowed as she listened to the man. She had heard that voice before.

One at a time, the captives slowly took out their pieces and placed them on the table.

The other coffee vendor then motioned Gates, Beckett, Ellis, and Weatherby to one side of the room and covered them while the other man quickly cuffed Tremblay with a zip tie.

"What do you want?" Gates asked, keeping her voice calm.

"Just the pictures and him," said the first coffee vendor. "We'll be out of your hair very quickly."

"You won't get away with this," huffed Weatherby. "We've got you on video and you're obstructing an official investigation of the United States government."

"As you are ours," said the first coffee vendor as he pulled the envelope with the pictures out of Tremblay's briefcase. "But feel free to file an official compliant with our boss – I think he's playing golf with your boss today."

"Fake Jenkins," Beckett said as recognition dawned on her.

"Nice to meet you again, Detective Beckett," the man nodded at her. "Tell Castle thanks for his help, although he's not going to remember why. We appreciate his service to our country."

"So this was a setup?" Beckett asked, narrowing her eyes at the man.

"No, more like a fishing expedition to tie up loose ends," Jenkins replied.

"And Castle was the bait," said Beckett grimly.

Jenkins nodded. "We knew that if we let him stew about this for a while, he would uncover any pieces that we missed."

"You can rest assured that my government will not take this interference lightly," said Tremblay.

"If I were you, I'd be more worried about the charges for conspiring against the US against you. We could probably even up that to conspiracy to commit terrorism, in which case, it would be a war crime," said the second coffee vendor.

"For what?" asked Weatherby. "All we're doing is trying to find out why two assets went missing."

"Let's just say they weren't here to enhance good will between our governments," said the second vendor.

"And who are you?" asked Gates.

"You already know me as Jenkins, so that will do," said Jenkins. "CIA asset."

"Attorney General's office," said the second man. "My name's not important."

"You work for our government?" asked Gates.

"That's the signature on the paycheck," commented Jenkins. "We'll be leaving now and I suggest you not mention this to anyone, it being classified and all. And Mr. Tremblay, I suggest you cooperate. I have no objection to knocking you in the head and carting you out like a sack of potatoes."

He pushed Tremblay out the door and towards the elevator, only to stop when he saw Espo standing there with his gun trained on him; several other officers also held their weapons at the ready.

"No one messes with one of ours," Espo growled at him.

"Captain Gates, we don't want any trouble," Jenkins said evenly. "Have your people back down now."

"I have a better idea," said Gates. "I'll make a few calls and see if your story checks out. If it does, you're free to leave and take Mr. Tremblay with you."

Jenkins frowned and then relented. "Fine, but 1PC is going to hear about this."

"Then your boss can file a complaint with my boss," replied Gates.

# # # # # # # #

While Gates made the phone calls, Jenkins and the unnamed man were placed in interrogation room one, while Tremblay and Weatherby were placed in the other room.

Beckett smiled slightly at Espo. "So what brought you back?"

"Felt my ears burning, so I knew I must be needed some place," said Espo. "And Ryan is letting the trainee shadow him, so I came back to get a head start on the paperwork."

Beckett nodded. Because her team had one of the highest closing rates, Gates had recently suggested a mentoring program and Ryan had volunteered because of the extra pay it brought in.

She looked up as Gates opened the door to her office and walked out into the bullpen.

"They are who they say they are," she stated. "And the CIA wants to take Tremblay into custody."

Beckett nodded as her phone rang. "Excuse me," she said as she quickly answered it. "LT, what's going on?"

"I'm here at Black Pawn, but Castle isn't here," said LT. "The receptionist said that the lawyer had car problems and rescheduled the meeting. She said that Castle left to meet you at the crime scene."

"Thanks, LT," said Beckett, a pit of fear growing in her stomach. She hung up and quickly dialed Ryan's number.

"Ryan, it's Beckett," she said, trying to keeping her voice calm.

"What's up?" answered the detective.

"I need you to go over to the corner of 5th Ave and E 82nd – across the street from the entrance and tell me what you see."

Ryan motioned to his shadow and then quickly walked across the street. "Okay, I'm here, Beckett."

"On the ground – do you see anything on the ground – maybe 2 coffee cups?" Beckett asked, biting her lower lip slightly as she waited.

"Yeah, there's some coffee cups and some old newspapers," said Ryan as he used his foot to move around the trash that had accumulated.

"Anything else?" Beckett asked. That didn't prove anything, she told herself. People were notorious about missing the trash can. Anyone could have dropped those cups.

There was a pause and then Ryan was back on the phone. "Yeah, there's a phone, but it's been run over."

"Is there any way to turn it on?" asked Beckett.

"It's pretty smashed up, but let me see – ah, there," said Ryan. "Uh, Beckett – I think this is Castle's phone."

Beckett closed her eyes and swallowed thickly. "Thanks, Kevin. Get CSI over there to see what they can find."

Espo was frowning at her as she hung up the phone. "Beckett, you okay?"

Beckett took a deep breath and then turned and stormed into interrogation room one. She slammed the door open.

"So did you get your answers?" asked Jenkins.

"The only one that I want answered is how bad of a fisherman are you, because the fish just ate the bait," Beckett responded, her voice shaking with contained fury.

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	8. Chapter 8 The Beginning of Answers

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x02 AU. After finding the fake Henry Jenkins lied, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. This is my version about where it leads them.

Author's Note: Totally AU. Hopefully I'll get this finished before Monday night's episode. And this chapter is rated for violence, so queasy readers, take note. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, followed, and 'faved' this story.

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**Chapter 8 – The Beginning of Answers**

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One moment, Castle had been standing on the curb near the museum, one cup of coffee in each hand, feeling the same euphoria that he had felt as a child when he had unexpectedly gotten out of school early.

The next moment, he found himself hogtied on the floor of a van that had pulled in front of him, a piece of duct tape covering his mouth and a bag shoved over his head.

From the rustling inside the van, he could tell that he was not alone, but each sound that he made was rewarded by a sharp prod in the side and a "Shhhh."

From the movement, he could tell they had driven for a while before the van finally slowed and then stopped.

The door opened and rough hands grabbed him and dragged him out of the van. He cocked his head, trying to listen through the thick material. The echos – it sounded like a warehouse – possibly a big one.

Metal scraped against concrete and he suddenly found himself thrust into a chair, his arms pulled behind the top, his legs kicked apart and zip tied to the legs of the chair.

The noise of stiletto heels caught his attention and he sat still as they came towards him and then stopped in front of him. Suddenly the bag was yanked off his head and he blinked against the bright lights.

"So, Ricky, we keep running into each other in less than ideal circumstances," the woman standing in front of him said. She was looked to be in her mid-40's but was probably in her mid-50's. She leaned forward and yanked the tape off of his mouth.

Castle grimaced and then worked his mouth slowly as he took a breath against the burning sensation. "No, no – I don't think we've met," he finally got out.

She smiled at him. "But you were sure two months ago when you recognized us." She frowned slightly. "It's a shame you did because our plan was going so perfectly and suddenly we had a loose end – oh, an odd sock, as you say in your books. But you don't remember because we took your memory away, which may have been a little hasty on our part."

Castle blinked at her. "You – you took my memory away."

"Well, we couldn't let you tell anyone who we were, now could we?" she answered. "And we couldn't exactly kill you – that would have created too much unwanted attention."

"And kidnapping me won't?" Castle retorted.

"As much as we would have liked to not do this, we're up against a hard stop, so finesse at this point doesn't matter. We've got enough pieces in play to create a diversion that should allow us to complete our mission without interference." She wheeled a table in front of him and his eyes widened slightly as he saw the scalpels and bandages lying on a towel.

"First things first though," she said as she picked up a scalpel and sliced through his shirt over the scar across his ribs made by the bullet. She placed the scalpel back down on the table and then held a scanner over the spot. "Thought so," she said as it chirped. "When they were sewing you back up, they gave you a little extra something."

She took a sharpie from the table, marked the spot, and then gave him a thumbs up and a smile.

Castle frowned at her. "Tiffany," he said finally as recognition dawned on him.

Tiffany nodded at the men standing behind Castle and they moved in to hold him in a vice grip as she covered his mouth with another piece of duct tape.

"This will be much easier if you don't struggle," she said as she laid her fingertips against his ribs and made a quick slice with the scalpel, opening up the scar.

The duct tape across his mouth muffled his scream as Castle strained against the arms holding him, trying to move away from the pain, as Tiffany wiped the wound and then probed inside the incision with a pair of needle-nose pliers. Was this what it felt like when he had operated on his father? Bourbon – he could definitely use a shot of Bourbon now, he thought as he broke out into a cold sweat.

"There we go," Tiffany said as she pulled out a small bloody microchip and laid it on the table. She picked up the scanner and ran it over the area and then titched several times. "I will say that your father is thorough," she said as she picked up the scalpel and moved to the other end of the scar.

Another quick incision, another probe, and she was finally satisfied with the results. The second chip joined the first on the table.

She nodded to the men holding Castle to release their grip and, when they did, he slumped forward against the restraints, breathing heavily, trying not to gag.

"Men, such big babies," Tiffany said, shaking her head at him as she bandaged the incisions.

She carefully ran the scanner over the rest of him. "Just checking to make sure they didn't put chips other places, not that I wouldn't be able to dig them out."

Tiffany looked at the men. "We'll meet at the extraction point as the designated time. Right now, Mr. Castle and I are going to take a trip."

She turned back to Castle and grabbed the hair on the top of his head to make him look up at her. "Now, Ricky, do you remember a man you met at Hollander's Woods when you went camping there? Short, frizzy hair, thick glasses – kind of looked like Einstein. He used to shoot off rockets in the field near there and probably let you help."

Castle frowned at her through the haze. He had never known the man's name, but yes, there had been a man at the lake the previous summer. They had called him "the mad scientist" because of all his rantings, but it had been fun to help him shoot off his rockets.

"He stole something from us," Tiffany continued, "and we think you stole it from him. And now, we want it back."

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	9. Chapter 9 Operation Great White Whale

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x02 AU. After finding the fake Henry Jenkins lied, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. This is my version about where it leads them.

Author's Note: Totally AU – Yeah, they are officially married. And, sorry, this story is taking longer to finish that I thought. I'm working on the last couple of chapters before posting so that the story flows correctly and I don't go down any rabbit holes. Thanks for hanging in there. Your reviews, favs, and follows really mean a lot. Rated T for swearing.

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**Chapter 9 – Operation Great White Whale**

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_Previously in Chapter 7 Spy VS Spy:_

_Beckett took a deep breath and then turned and stormed into interrogation room one. She slammed the door open._

"_So did you get your answers?" asked Jenkins. _

"_The only one that I want answered is how bad of a fisherman are you, because the fish just ate the bait," Beckett responded, her voice shaking with contained fury._

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Jenkins nodded, looking strangely satisfied, and then stood. "Good – about time."

"Good?" Beckett said in astonishment. "Good?! What in the hell do you mean by that?"

"It means that someone finally blinked in this game of chicken. Now, if you'll excuse me, Detective, I've got a mission to run. And I suggest that you don't stop me if you want to get your fiancé back alive," he said as he brushed past her and quickly walked out of the interrogation room towards the break room.

Esposito frowned and shrugged at Beckett as she walked past him, following Jenkins into the break room. It was very evident that this wasn't over by a long shot. He walked to Gates' office and knocked on the door. "Captain," he said softly, "we need you out here."

"Would you kindly explain _**what in the hell**_ is going on?" Beckett asked, seething with fury as Jenkins picked up his utility bag that had been placed under the sink and put it on the table.

"Operation Great White Whale," the agent replied as he opened the bag and removed the top compartment. He then took out a tablet, a cell phone, and a headset that were secured in a secret compartment in the side of the bag. "Although Castle wanted to call it something else."

Jenkins ignored Gates and Espo as they walked into the room, also staring at him.

He put on the headset and turned the tablet on. Next, he thumbed the phone on and pressed an icon. "This is Jenkins. Operation GWW has commenced. All units stand ready."

He listened for a minute, nodded, and then focused back on the tablet.

"There – that's Castle," he said as he pulled up an app that displayed a map of the New York area and a blinking light. "Team 1 North – target has been acquired – 141 Tompkins Ave."

Jenkins looked at the three other people standing in the room. "This shouldn't take too long."

Beckett pressed her lips together before speaking. "So what is Operation Great White Whale? Was the crash before the wedding part of it?" she asked, dreading the answer. Had Castle known about this beforehand, deliberately left her, and then stayed away? How could someone do that to someone they loved? But Castle didn't remember so he couldn't answer those questions and she knew that it pained him and created doubt in her.

Jenkins shook his head. "No, it wasn't, but it started the proverbial snowball rolling. And after that, he really didn't have a chance to say 'no'," he conceded.

He listened for a minute to what was being said over the headphones. "Time out 5 minutes. Cameras functional…video feed acquired."

Jenkins propped the tablet up on its stand as Beckett and Gates moved closer to watch.

Ryan had just walked into the break room and looked at Espo, "What's going on?" he whispered, frowning slightly.

"Classified stuff," Espo stage-whispered back.

Time slowed to a crawl for Beckett as she watched the monitor. Was this what it had been like for Castle when her undercover mission went south? All she could do now was sit and watch, unable to help in any way which left her feeling impotent, something she usually rarely felt because she would always find a way.

After several minutes, the video showed the front of a warehouse and then the warehouse moved up and down slightly as the man wearing the camera nodded.

"You're good to go," Jenkins said.

The next few minutes was a rush of confusing movement as the team threw smoke bombs and then breeched the warehouse. Laser lights cut through the smoke as the team secured the area.

"Uh, huh, uh, huh," nodded Jenkins. "What?!" he said finally. "All teams – we are blown – go hot now. Repeat – go hot now."

Beckett was instantly alert. "What – what's going on? What happened? I thought you said he was there," she said, looking at the stationary blinking light.

Jenkins pulled up several other video feeds on the tablet. "He was. They had a helicopter waiting and left just as the team entered the front of the warehouse. Needless to say, we were…reluctant to shoot it down."

"But why isn't the dot moving?" asked Espo.

Jenkins paused for a moment as he looked through the video feeds, searching for something. "They obviously found the microchips and removed them."

"Microchips?" asked Ryan, frowning.

Jenkins shrugged. "Belling the cat, so to speak. Castle has a tendency to wander off, so we implanted 2 GPS microchips when the bullet wound was sewn up so he'd be easier to find."

Beckett's eyes widened. "They took them out?"

"Based on the blood at the scene, yes," said Jenkins matter-of-factly. He expanded a particular video.

"Got the copter," he said into the headset. "It's headed north, but they aren't showing up on the radar." He nodded several times. "Keep me posted," he said, ending the call.

"So that's it?" asked Beckett, fear growing in the pit of her stomach. "That's all you can do?"

"We've got spotters – we'll try to keep track of the helicopter and see where it's going and intercept them then," Jenkins replied. "Most of these types of missions are just waiting games."

Beckett shook her head. "No, that's not good enough. There has to be something else. What if you can't figure out where they are going?"

"We will," Jenkins said confidently.

"But can you figure it out in time?" Beckett asked. When he didn't reply, she looked at him with a determined expression. "Then we will."

"Why don't we move to the conference room?" suggested Gates. "Mr. Jenkins, if you'll follow me," she said, brooking no argument from the man.

When they were all in the conference room, Beckett turned to Jenkins. "Why was Castle kidnapped?"

"That's classified," Jenkins stated.

"Not anymore," growled Gates, glaring at him.

Jenkins studied the Captain for a minute and then relented. "Okay, fine. His book _Tropical Storm_ – someone recognized a character in it. The only problem is that the person the character is based on is in protective custody and the people who kidnapped Castle thought he knew where that person was."

Beckett shook her head. "No, Castle never published _Tropical Storm_."

"He used the draft in a writing seminar he taught online to show a bad example of writing," Jenkins replied. "Of course, he changed the name of the author to A. Rodgers—"

"And if you know anything about Castle, you'd know that his middle name is Alexander and he changed his last name from Rodgers to Castle," added Beckett. "Why was the person in protective custody?"

"I don't have the details, but he sought political asylum in the United States 31 years ago," Jenkins said.

"When Castle called me after the crash," said Espo, "he mentioned Grant Riseman. How does that tie in with this?"

Jenkins sighed and shook his head as he focused his attention on the tablet. "I guess 'going dark' doesn't mean anything either. Grant Riseman was the person's son. He took Castle's seminar and recognized the character as…being related to him – someone he had been trying to locate for several years. They exchanged emails about the person. We think that's how they found out about Castle."

"Who is this mysterious 'they'?" Gates asked.

Jenkins didn't even look up this time. "We suspect that 'they' are the country that the person defected from, but we don't have proof at this point."

Beckett cocked her head at him. "We didn't put the son in protective custody too?"

Jenkins shook his head. "No. Apparently there was a messy divorce and the other parent was awarded full custody."

Beckett nodded. "Then that's what we'll start with." She looked at Epso and Ryan. "Can you move the white board in here? And Espo, do you still have the file on Riseman?"

"Sure," the detectives said at the same time.

A few minutes later, the white board was in the room and Espo handed Beckett the file.

Beckett pulled the pictures out and placed the one of Riseman on the board. She studied it for a minute, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I've seen him before," she said softly to herself.

That got a rise out of Jenkins. "Castle had contact with Riseman other than email? He didn't mention that."

Beckett smiled slightly to herself but kept her face passive – she had found the chink in his armor and that's all she needed. "No, not that I'm aware of."

But where had she seen the man before? It finally dawned on her as she stared at the picture – Castle's pictures of his various camping trips to Hollander's Woods. The man – or someone who looked just like him – had been in several pictures taken during the summer before the fateful trip in February. Castle hadn't looked in the pictures in years so he probably didn't even think about it.

Martha was at her acting studio and Alexis was in class, so the quickest way to get the pictures was to send a squad car to pick them up.

"Captain," she said, turning to Gates, "neither Martha nor Alexis are home, but Castle has a box of pictures that are relevant to this on the desk in his office. Can you send someone to pick them up?"

"Of course," Gates said and then walked into her office to make the call.

Beckett paused a moment before picking up a marker and drawing a horizontal line across the board. She then drew a short vertical line in the middle of the other line and wrote 'Crash' where they intersected.

"We'll start from the far left." She paused again, gathering her thoughts, and then started writing. "31 years ago seems to be a common denominator – the as yet unnamed man asks for asylum, which I'm assuming we granted. Castle was 11 then and 2 Royal Canadian Mounted Police Security Service agents who were taking pictures of him disappeared at that time."

She glanced at Jenkins to let him know that she knew what had happened at Hollander's Woods and then put the initials 'HW' on the timeline.

"Then, sometime later, Castle writes _Tropical Heat_, which he let me read. Not one of his best, but it had potential." She wrote the name of the book on the time line.

"He then teaches an online class and that's where he and Riseman first intersect. Riseman reads the 'bad examples' and recognizes…his father probably…and contacts Castle." 'Online class' and 'Riseman' were added to the line.

Beckett studied the pictures for a few minutes and placed an index finger on Riseman's picture. The man was average looking, with a shock of short frizzy hair and thick glasses.

She thought a moment and then drew an arrow back to HW. "As to the character in _Tropical Heat_, when Castle was a boy, he would go camping in Hollander's Woods. While there, he met a man who shot off rockets in the fields around the woods. In the book, he described the man as a cheap imitation of Einstein. The villain created a weather machine to take over the world and Derrick Storm stopped him."

She tapped the marker on the board. "I think that the man Castle met at Hollander's Woods and the man in protective custody are the same man – maybe that's why the Canadian agents were taking pictures of Castle outside the school. We'll call the man Riseman Sr." She wrote the name on the board.

Ryan and Espo moved closer to study the board as Beckett wrote.

"For some reason, these people – this government – have been looking for this man. Somehow, they found his son and then made the connection between Castle and this man using their emails. They thought Castle could lead them to him, so they waited until he was alone and took him," Beckett said as she circled the word 'Crash'.

Beckett cocked her head at Jenkins. "But you knew that it had happened and were there to rescue him." She narrowed her eyes again and nodded – of course, 'he' would have known they were getting married and where the wedding was even though he hadn't been invited.

"Somehow, you made the connection between Riseman, Jr., and Castle, and you decided to go pick up Riseman, Sr. and move him since he was in danger of being found."

Beckett thought for a moment. "Castle had antibodies for dengue fever, so I'm assuming you went to some place where it's prevalent, say Costa Rico, where _Tropical Storm_ was set. I bet he didn't even know he caught it." She wrote 'Costa Rica' to the right of 'Crash'.

She looked at Jenkins who had remained silent during her theory building.

"But something happened while you were down there, didn't it? Because you wound up in Montreal where the newlyweds took a picture of Castle about 2 weeks after he disappeared. I'm betting that you didn't find the man where he was supposed to be."

Beckett rifled through the papers and picked up the obit about Riseman and his family. "He had gone home for his son's funeral, so you went there."

She wrote 'Montreal' to the right of 'Costa Rica'.

"Then 3 weeks ago, Castle was found off the coast of Delaware." She then wrote 'Found' on the timeline near the right edge.

"But now, once again, he's missing, presumably kidnapped by the same people who took him the first time." She wrote 'Missing' at the end of the line and then looked at Jenkins. "So they must think he can take them to Riseman Sr."

Jenkins shrugged. "They're going to be very disappointed to find out that he can't."

Beckett paused as LT walked into the room, carrying the box of pictures.

"Thanks, LT," Beckett said as she took the box.

She sat it on the table and pulled out several packages of pictures.

"These are from Castle's trips to Hollander's Woods." She paused as she got to the pictures from the summer before that February and then pulled one picture out of the stack. "And this is the evil scientist from _Tropical Storm_," she said, putting it next to the picture of Riseman on the board.

The resemblance was uncanny – even though the pictures had been taken years apart, the men were about the same age, with the same shock of short frizzy hair and almost identical thick glasses. They were definitely related.

Beckett stood back and looked at the board. Now what, she thought. What was the connection that linked all these events together? Castle had always said there were no coincidences, that there was always a story.

"Uh, who's this?" asked Jenkins as he pulled out a picture from Castle's last trip to Hollander's Woods, the one that had changed his life forever as a boy and then changed it again as a man.

Beckett looked at the picture he held out towards her. "Castle said her name was Tiffany – she was camping at Hollander's Woods with her mother and sister. She's – uh – you know...," she said, trying to be discreet around her team. "Why?"

"Different color hair – weighs a little more, but the eyes are the same. She was our contact in Costa Rica," Jenkins said. "The one who sent us to where Riseman, Sr. should have been."

Beckett frowned. "Castle said she saved his life in Hollander's Woods – she killed the man who was trying to kidnap him."

"Whoa!" "What?" Espo and Ryan said at the same time.

"Someone tried to kidnap Castle when he was a kid and they killed the man in front of him?" Ryan asked.

"That is so twisted," said Espo.

"Long story," Beckett commented, crinkling her nose.

"And I think we just got the Reader's Digest version of it," remarked Gates.

Jenkins smiled as he pulled out his phone and took a picture of the picture. "Whoever she is, she lied to us. I think it's time to phone a friend."

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	10. Chapter 10 Phone a Friend

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x02 AU. After finding the fake Henry Jenkins lied, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. This is my version about where it leads them.

Author's Note: Totally AU – Yeah, it's Monday again and I think the plot bunnies may be working again – they took a break when we moved back to regular time from day-light savings time, which really messes with your circadian rhythm – not to mention that winter has come early this year. Rated T for swearing.

As usual, Castle belongs to A Marlowe and ABC/Disney.

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**Chapter 10 – Phone a Friend**

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"This may take a couple of minutes," said Jenkins as he sent the picture to his contact. "He's checking out a possible Chinese connection to this, so the reception may be spotty."

A few minutes later, his phone chirped and he quickly answered. "I'm at the 12th – you're on speaker phone," he cautioned.

"Good to know," said the gravelly voice that Beckett recognized instantly. This was definitely a Catch-22 situation – without that man, Castle wouldn't have been born, but because his father did what he did, Castle and his family were in constant danger should anyone find out their connection.

"The woman in the picture I just sent you – that was taken at Hollander's Woods 31 years ago. She was our DOJ contact in Costa Rico. Do you know her?" Jenkins asked.

"Got it," the man replied. There was a pause, several long moments of static before he replied. "No, she wasn't…one of ours…at the Woods…I didn't…see her then…DOJ, you said?"

"Yes, she met us in Costa Rico and took us to where Riseman, Sr. should have been. But he wasn't there and she didn't know where he was," Jenkins explained. "A Canadian agent is here at the precinct asking about the two men from Hollander's Woods."

There was a long pause.

"Let me…call in a few favors…shouldn't take too long…I'll be in touch." The line went dead.

The room was silent for a few moments and then Gates looked at Beckett. "Detective, a moment of your time."

"Yes, sir," Beckett answered and then followed the captain into her office.

Gates shut the door and then looked at Beckett. "Kate, let me get this straight. When Mr. Castle was a boy, two men tried to kidnap him and the CIA killed them while he was watching? Why would they be interested in an 11-year old boy? Was it because he met the man the DOJ put into protective custody?"

Beckett thinned her lips slightly as she thought. "Possibly – but it could also be because of who Castle's father is."

Gates looked at her questioningly. "I thought Mr. Castle doesn't know who his father is."

Beckett shook her head. She knew now that Gates could be discreet when the situation called for it and trusted her more. "He only met the man two years ago when Alexis was kidnapped. Castle's father was the reason it happened and he rescued her." She paused for a moment. "He's a CIA black ops asset."

"I see," nodded Gates. She cocked her head at Beckett. "Did he have anything to do with the Ted Rollins case?"

Beckett nodded. "He's why we caught the case – he staged it so we did. He wanted to work Castle for information. And, once again, he killed the suspect in front of Castle."

Gates nodded. "He is the 'friend' that Mr. Jenkins phoned?"

Beckett nodded in affirmation. "Yes, sir."

"So Mr. Castle based a character on a man in protective custody and used that book in a seminar. The man's son took the seminar and realizes that it's his father – the man he's been trying to find. And now the country – probably Canada – that the man defected from is trying to find the man for some reason. They probably killed his son and family while attempting to find out that information. When that didn't work, they kidnapped Castle on his way to your wedding because they thought he might know. And then Castle went with…the CIA," Gates looked at Beckett with raised eyebrows and then continued when Beckett nodded her head slightly, "to find the man and put him back in protective custody because Castle could recognize the man. And now, that same country has kidnapped Castle again…to find the man?"

Beckett nodded in affirmation again. "Yes, sir."

"And we're detaining an agent from Canada who is asking about those men who tried to kidnap Castle as a boy – I'm assuming he doesn't know that the CIA killed the men?"

Beckett shook her head. "I don't think so, sir."

"And the CIA is in the conference room running the operation," Gates finished.

Beckett nodded throughout Gates' summarization – sometimes life was stranger than fiction. "Yes, sir," she said after Gates stopped speaking. "That's an accurate description."

Gates nodded while she thought and then looked at Beckett. "Let's see if we can get this cleared up before 1PP gets wind of it and decides Mr. Castle is a liability and removes him from the precinct."

"Yes, sir," Beckett nodded.

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Jenkins was sitting at the conference table, watching the video feeds on the tablet and sipping a cup of coffee when Beckett walked back into the room.

Espo and Ryan were standing to the side, semi-discretely watching the man.

"Anything yet?" she asked.

"Like I said, Detective, it's a waiting game," Jenkins said, pulling up another feed.

Beckett nodded and then finally gathered her courage to ask the one question she needed answered – that her team needed answered to put this to bed. "When Castle flew to Montreal – found the warehouse – you told him that he asked to have his memory of the event erased. Why did he do that?"

Jenkins paused for a moment and frowned slightly. "Castle said that he was responsible for what happened to Riseman and his family because he wrote about his father. He didn't want to make that mistake again," Jenkins replied. "We tried to talk him out of it – it seemed very extreme, but he was adamant."

"But didn't he realize that by doing that, he would create a mystery that he would feel compelled to solve?" Ryan asked.

Jenkins just shrugged. "The truth affects people different ways. Some people have no problem with the consequences of their actions; some people can't get past it." He swiped his finger across the tablet screen. "I guess Castle is one of those people who couldn't get past it."

Beckett pressed her lips together, a small seed of doubt creeping up on her again and she squashed it without remorse. She was about to say something else when Jenkins' phone chirped.

The asset quickly answered. "You're on speaker," he said.

"Good," said the voice on the other end. "Now take the phone into Director Tremblay if he's still in the room. If you didn't cuff him, he might not be there." The line went dead.

Jenkins frowned at that and glanced at Beckett.

They quickly walked into interrogation room 2, with Espo, Ryan, and Gates walking into the observation area.

Weatherby was still fuming, while Tremblay exuded a detached confidence.

"What right do you have to detain me?" Weatherby started. "I demand to see the police commissioner immediately."

Jenkins' phone chirped again and he quickly answered it and then handed it to Tremblay, who gave him a look.

The man's demeanor changed and he quickly stood, looking slightly shocked. "Of course, sir. I understand. Yes, sir."

Tremblay thumbed the phone off and handed it back to Jenkins. "Apparently you have really good connections," he said, silently appraising the asset. "I've been ordered to give you the information I have on Alfred Morin and Ross Burns and see what other assistance I can give in your investigation. Although this is strictly off the record," he said as he sat back down. "Morin and Burns were the agents in charge of security at a government lab in Montreal. During their watch, several vials of a cloud-seeding agent were stolen and they were attempting to recover them."

Beckett glanced at the mirror that divided the interrogation room and the observation room.

Because they had been working together for so long, Espo and Ryan understood what she meant and quickly walked into the conference room to get the pictures of Riseman Sr., Riseman Jr., and Tiffany and bring them into the interrogation room.

They knocked on the interrogation room door and handed her the pictures.

"You might want to invite them in," said Tremblay. "That way, they'll have an unobstructed view."

He waited until Gates, Espo, and Ryan were standing in the interrogation room.

"Do you recognize this man?" Beckett said as she handed him the picture of Riseman Sr.

Tremblay nodded. "That's Dr. Arthur Cutchins. He was the senior scientist in charge of the cloud-seeding project until he defected to the United States 31 years ago and took his work with him. The Canadian government protested – they weren't interested that much in Cutchins since he was deemed unstable, but in the samples that he took."

"Cloud-seeding?" asked Espo. "As in making rain?"

Beckett nodded. That was what Castle had said. "So are you the ones looking for Cutchins?" she asked, the implications left unsaid – did you kill Riseman and his family? Did you kidnap Castle?

Tremblay shook his head. "No, we're not. Canada has a mature cloud-seeding program. In fact, most industrialized countries have had major breakthroughs in cloud-seeding since then. Cutchins' samples would be a step backwards for them."

"Do you know who is?" Gates asked.

"No, we weren't aware that anyone was looking for Cutchins. Our only interest is in what happened to Morin and Burns. They thought they had a lead on Cutchins and came to the US to apprehend him 31 years ago. They were never heard from after that. Like I said earlier, flags popped when your tech started running facial recognition."

"And I'm assuming that you didn't share this information with our government," said Jenkins.

Tremblay raised an eyebrow at him. "We may be friends, but our governments don't always share."

Beckett placed the picture the photographer had taken of the men in front of the school. "Are these Moris and Burns?"

Tremblay picked up the pictures and then nodded. "Yes, that's them." He studied the pictures and then looked up. "Where were these taken?"

"At a school where the son of a government official attended," Gates said discretely. "Do you know why they would be interested in him?"

Tremblay shook his head. "I have no idea."

"What if I told you that the boy had met Cutchins during the summer?" Beckett asked. "That the doctor let him help fire rockets."

Tremblay frowned as he considered that. "Then they may have wanted to talk to him?" he suggested. "Perhaps Cutchins told him something?"

"And they tried to kill him and the assets who were protecting him," she continued.

Tremblay's frown deepened. "I have no idea why they would have done that. They certainly weren't authorized to do that according to the assignment brief."

Beckett nodded and then pushed the picture of Tiffany towards Tremblay. "What about her? Do you recognize her?"

Tremblay picked up the photo. "Yes, that's Tiffany Stiles – she was Cutchins' assistant at the lab but quit after he defected. She went to work for a think tank making a 6-figure salary." He laid the photo back on the table. "So, now that I've shared, what can you tell me about Morin and Burns?"

"As long as we're off the record," Beckett took a breath, "we have a witness who says that they were killed while trying to kidnap the government official's son."

"I see," said Tremblay, nodding. "That definitely wasn't in the scope of their assignment. I'll mark that file as closed." He paused and sat back in the chair. "And now that we have that out of the way, my next concern is recovering the samples that Cutchins stole."

"Why? Are they important?" asked Gates. "They were stolen 31 years ago."

"Most industrialized countries have mature cloud-seeding projects." Tremblay leaned slightly forward to stress his point. "But if the samples are still viable, they could advance that methodology exponentially for any country that hasn't developed the capability yet – they would be worth tens of millions to the right buyer. And analysts say that affecting the weather might be the next weapon in a war. So we need to recover those samples."

Gates nodded. "So what can you tell us about them?"

Tremblay shrugged. "He took 3 vials. Security is very tight at the lab—"

"Not tight enough," commented Espo under his breath.

"—so Cutchins must have gotten them out by disguising them as common objects," Tremblay continued, ignoring the detective.

"So what size are we talking about?" Beckett asked. "Eye dropper? Coffee thermos?"

Tremblay thought. "Probably the size of a soft drink can."

"Or a beer can," Beckett said as the air was sucked out of the room. "I have a crazy Castle theory." She paused as she remembered. "Castle said when they were camping at Hollander's Woods, they would find the beers that the workers would hide in the lake and move them. Cutchins shot off rockets near there. What if Cutchins hid the samples there, and Castle found them and moved them? He said that Morin and Burns were on the lake all day. They were probably looking for the samples. "

She looked at Jenkins. "They're going to Hollander's Woods."

# # # # # # # #


	11. Chapter 11 Bait

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x02 AU. After finding the fake Henry Jenkins lied, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. This is my version about where it leads them.

Author's Note: Totally AU – Sorry, people – apparently my Castle OCD dried up for a little while so I'm late updating. And a happy late Thanksgiving and good Black Friday and exciting Cyber Monday! Wonder if the internet will go down at work on Monday? It was iffy on pre-Cyber Wednesday. And thanks for all the follows, favs, and reviews.

# # # # # # # #

**Chapter 11 – Bait…**

# # # # # # # #

By the time the team arrived at the Hollander's Woods subdivision, the CIA, local law enforcement, and SWAT had quietly moved in and discreetly cordoned off the area so that traffic was not allowed in or out.

Fortunately most of the houses there were vacation homes and the few people who were home had been warned to stay inside and away from the windows.

Jenkins' team commandeered the house closest to the lake and had a perfect view of the dock where the action was happening.

The home owners association had elected to improve the lake, adding a fountain and dredging the lake in an attempt to remove most of the weeds that had taken over, hence the rush to find whatever Cutchins had left there before it was destroyed during construction.

Heavy equipment sat on the far bank of the lake, a dump truck ready to carry away the mud that was being scraped out.

Jenkins and Beckett trained their binoculars on the dock where 2 people stood, both dressed in the construction company's overalls and baseball hats so that they would blend in with the work crews. A man in scuba gear held on to the end of the dock, talking to them.

"There," said Beckett, "that's Castle – the one by the edge."

"Got him," said Jenkins. He frowned at what he saw. "Looks like they have him chained to the rail."

Beckett nodded. "Probably so he won't get any ideas about jumping into the lake and swimming away."

Jenkins looked at her as he lowered the binoculars. "The temperature in that lake is about 60 degrees," he commented.

"I didn't say it was a good idea," said Beckett. "Now what?"

"I count 2 guns – looks like the man in the lake doesn't have one," Jenkins said. He raised the binoculars again and watched as the man in scuba gear dove in the lake and then come up empty-handed several minutes later.

Castle motioned to the underside of the dock again and the man dove back in.

"We need to move now," said Beckett.

"Yes, but your team is staying here," said Jenkins. He turned to another man in the room. "Team A will approach from this side. Team B will take the helicopter and approach from the other side. If they find something, their attention will be focused on that for a few moments. That should buy us enough time."

Beckett nodded as they left the room.

Everyone quietly moved into position and then waited.

The man in the lake finally came back up, swinging a black bag onto the dock and then pulling himself up.

Tiffany put her gun down and knelt, opening the bag and pulling out 3 aluminum cans. She smiled up at Castle.

"Go now," Jenkins said into his microphone.

Team A quickly moved in on the dock while the helicopter approached from the side, training rifles on the people on the dock.

Castle saw the movement and quickly kicked the gun into the lake with his free foot as Tiffany was trying to pick it back up.

Being unarmed, Tiffany and the man quietly surrendered and were hauled off to a waiting van, where Team B carted them off to an undisclosed location.

Now that the situation was diffused, SWAT and most of the local law enforcement packed up and left also, leaving just Jenkins and two other CIA agents, and Tremblay.

When they were finally released from the house, Beckett, Espo, and Ryan raced down to the dock.

Beckett caught Castle up in a tight embrace and a shaky kiss.

"Kate," he breathed into her hair as he hugged her. "I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again."

"And I'm not letting you out of my sight anymore," Beckett smiled at him.

Jenkins walked onto the dock. "Tremblay wants to take immediate possession of the samples. He's on the phone arguing with the government now."

Castle nodded and looked at his ankle. "Any chance I can get this off any time soon?"

Jenkins knelt to examine the shackle around Castle's ankle that chained him to the dock and a boat anchor and frowned. "Sure – got the keys?"

It was Castle's turn to frown. "Uh, no – she threw them into the lake when we got here."

"Then it's going to take a little while; we'll need to cut it off," said Jenkins as he pulled out his phone and walked back onto the shore. "Peters, we're going to need an acetylene torch here."

"Sure you don't want to cut off your foot to get free, babe?" Beckett asked with a poker face, continuing to hug him.

Castle shook his head. "No, I'm kinda attached to it; I think I'll wait."

The team stood around chatting for a while until two firemen walked up with an acetylene torch.

"Detectives," said one of the men, "we need you to step off of the dock while we do this."

"Of course," nodded Beckett. She quickly kissed Castle. "See you in a minute."

"Yeah, you're getting that old ball-and-chain off just in time," joked Espo.

Beckett rolled her eyes at him as they walked to the shore.

"We'll just cut the chain," the first man said. "Then the police can get a locksmith to open that."

The other man handed Castle a welder's mask, which he quickly put on, and then covered the jumpsuit he wore with a welding apron.

The first man knelt and tried to turn on the torch several times, and then tapped one of the values and watched the needle drop. "Damn – the value isn't registering correctly. It's out. We'll need to get a different one."

He stood up and hauled off the torch. "It'll be just a little while longer," he said as he passed Beckett.

Beckett nodded and was about to walk back out on the dock when her phone rang.

"Hey, Lanie – what's up?" she asked. The ME wasn't working on a case for them now that the body and cause of death had been identified.

"I'm not sure," Lanie replied. "Kate, something seemed off, so I went back over the evidence on Castle."

Beckett frowned into her phone. "And?"

"Kate, I don't think he was on that boat for as long as the Coast Guard thought he was. When someone is unconscious for any length of time, you expect to find certain chemicals on their clothes and there weren't any."

Beckett shook her head. "I don't understand."

"He didn't pee, Kate – there was no urea on his pants and if he had been unconscious on that boat for more than a couple of hours, he would have at some point." Lanie paused. "Unless he has a super-sized bladder."

Beckett shook her head. "No, he doesn't. Thanks, Lanie. Let me know if you find anything else."

She ended the call and looked around for Jenkins who could possibly explain this, and then caught sight of Castle, what she saw stopping her abruptly in her tracks.

Castle was the only one on the dock now, sitting in the chair someone had brought him, tapping his free foot, the welder's mask sitting by the bag that had been taken out of the lake. He looked lonely. No – not lonely, but very much alone – like a worm on a line waiting for a fish to bite…much like bait.

Something definitely wasn't right here, her tingling Spidey senses told her and the questions started.

The woman and man holding Castle had given up without a fight. And why was the bag still there? It was what they were looking for, wasn't it? Why hadn't the CIA put it under lock and key the moment they had captured it?

And what was with Castle not being on the boat for as long as they thought?

What had Castle said when Tyson had staged his death? Make it public? What if this all had been staged? But for what purpose?

Who wouldn't have noticed the stories about Castle being found on a boat after being adrift for several days off the coast of Massachusetts and his amnesia about the 2 months he was gone? Go big or go home certainly fit here, only this was a badly written story.

Espo had been right – whatever this was wasn't over and she hoped that Castle didn't have a clue as to what was happening. She didn't think he had it in him to be that cruel – to fake amnesia and everything that occurred after he had been found, knowing how much it would hurt his family.

She finally spotted Jenkins standing next to a van, talking to several men, and started towards him, determined to find answers.

Espo and Ryan intercepted her as she strode towards the CIA agent.

"Beckett, what's going on?" Espo asked.

Beckett shook her head. "Not now, Espo," she said, waving him off.

"It's going to take about an hour to get a different torch here and we've got to move this along – there's a strong storm front rolling in," one of the officers said to Jenkins. "This is Mike O'Maley, the neighborhood caretaker. We've verified his identity with the DMV, the TSA, and the homeowners association."

Jenkins looked at the driver's license that the man given him and then handed it back to him. "Thanks for your help, Mr. O'Maley."

"No problem," said O'Maley. "They said that you needed a welder."

Jenkins nodded and pointed toward the dock. "We've got a little situation down there."

"Piece of cake," said O'Maley. "Lead the way."

"I've got this," an officer standing near the others volunteered.

Jenkins nodded and then turned to Beckett as the two men walked towards the dock.

"I've got some questions," she said firmly.

Jenkins looked at her. "I think they can wait to a better time, Detective," he said quietly.

Beckett shook her head as Espo and Ryan moved closer to listen. "No, they can't."

Jenkins fixed her with a look, the one that Beckett usually reserved for petulant suspects. "They. Can. Wait," he repeated quietly.

# # # # # # # #

Out of habit, Castle stood up as the two men approached him.

"Mike O'Maley," said the welder, offering his hand. "Hey, don't I know you?"

He thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. "Richard Castle – the mystery writer."

Castle nodded. "Yeah, I am."

O'Maley knelt and examined the shackle and chains. "Looks like you got a little problem there."

Castle made a slight face. "Yeah, just some research gone wrong. And I dropped the keys in the lake."

O'Maley shrugged. "You'll never find them in there then. Too many weeds – choking off the fish."

He pointed to the welder's mask by the chair. "You wanna put that on? And officer, if you're going to stay here, you might want to step back and make sure you don't look into the light."

"Actually, if you don't need me, I'll go back on shore and make sure this gets into evidence," he said, picking up the black bag. He then picked up the mask and offered it to Castle. "Here."

Castle started to take the mask and then stared at the man's hand and then at his face. "You…" he breathed out. "You were the man at the truck."

# # # # # # # #


	12. Chapter 12 And Switch

FRC – Evidence Be Damned

Summary – Post 7x02 AU. After finding the fake Henry Jenkins lied, Beckett starts questioning the evidence against Castle. This is my version about where it leads them.

Author's Note: Totally AU – And so we come to the end of the story. Thanks for reading and sorry it took so long to finish. I appreciate all the favs, follows, and reviews. You are awesome. Can't wait until tomorrow night's episode, but then we'll be Castleless for what – a month or a month and a half?

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**Chapter 12 – …and Switch**

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_(Flashback)_

_Tiffany (who apparently wasn't the teenager she was pretending to be) quietly opened the door and helped the shaking boy climb inside the truck. _

"_Lock the doors and don't unlock them for anyone. We'll be back in a little while," she whispered at him. _

_Ricky locked the doors and watched her walk away, shrinking down onto the floor board, wondering if he was dreaming that he was a spy again, but he really didn't like this dream. _

_After a while, he saw several flashes of light in the distance, really strange lightning that was parallel to the ground, rather than perpendicular. _

_Moments later, there was a loud thud as a bloody hand hit the driver's side window. That hand had definitely seen better days – the fingers were parted in spastic imitation of the Vulcan salute, the tops of the little finger and ring finger both ragged, the end of the bone sticking out, blood dripping from them, and splayed out at a 45 degree angle to the left, the middle finger and pointer finger splayed to the right but with the finger tips leaning back to the left. _

"_Kid, you open this door immediately," said the man, pointing a gun at him with the other hand. _

_Ricky was frozen in place, unable to do anything else but shiver and stare. The man's eyes were like a defective snake – the right one boring into his, the left one moving slightly to the left and then back to center as the staring contest continued. Ricky knew that they were forever burned into his memory and that he could never forget them no matter how hard he tried. _

# # # # # # # #

Castle's aha moment abruptly ended as the fake officer quickly slipped his gun out of the holster and aimed it at them, using the sample bag as camouflage. He had purposely positioned himself in such a way that the people onshore couldn't see what was happening.

"Oh shit," said O'Maley, starting to crab walk backwards away from the man.

"You, stand up slowly and keep your hands where I can see them," the officer told him quietly. "And, you," he addressed Castle, "don't move. I will take you out."

Castle shook his head and put his hands up, his eyes wide. "Not going anywhere," he said.

"Okay, mister," said O'Maley, also holding his hands up. "It'll take a moment – my knees are bad." The handyman started to stand, using the chair that Castle had been sitting on for purchase, when he stumbled and knocked into Castle, making the writer lose his footing and take a dive into the lake.

The splash caught everyone's attention on shore and they started to run towards the dock and then stopped short when the officer pulled O'Maley to him, his left arm locked around the man's neck in a choke hold, the gun jammed into the right side of his head.

"Stop right now or he's dead," he barked. "Carefully pull out your guns and throw them into the water. Better hurry – your friend in the lake probably doesn't have much time."

The people on shore quickly complied as they glanced over at Castle who was struggling in the water.

"Now, keep your hands up where I can see them and move over there," the man nodded to the shore past the other side of the dock. "O'Maley, we're going to take a little walk."

"Sure, sure," said O'Maley, looking around fearfully and bringing his right hand up to grasp the man's arm that circled his neck.

When O'Maley felt solid ground under his feet, he looked at Jenkins and then flexed his left hand, popping out a hidden knife and driving it into the officer's left arm.

The result was immediate – howling in pain, the man loosened his grip, and O'Maley ducked and rolled away.

Before anyone else could react, a loud crack split the air and the officer collapsed on the ground, blood seeping out of a gaping wound in the middle of his back.

O'Maley quickly pulled a gun out of his ankle holster and added two head shots of his own as Jenkins pulled a phone out of his pocket.

"The cobra is down – he's definitely dead this time," he said, looking at the 2nd floor window in the house nearest the lake.

The curtains ruffled slightly in the open window.

"Good," came the dry reply. "Now would you mind fishing my son out of the lake? I was hoping for more grandchildren, but if things freeze, that won't be happening."

# # # # # # # #

Dressed in dry clothes and clutching several warmed blankets around him, Castle sat on the examination table in the nearest emergency clinic to Hollander's Woods, coughing miserably every now and then.

"I think I swallowed a minnow," he croaked to no one in particular as the nurse took his vitals. "I can feel it moving around."

"If you did, I'm pretty sure it's been digested by now – just think of it as cheap sushi," she said as she entered the information in the computer. "We need to run a few tests, Mr. …Smith."

She turned to Beckett and smiled. "Mrs. Smith, you can stay here if you want to or in the waiting room. It shouldn't take too long."

Beckett smiled back. "I need to make a few phone calls," she said. She looked at Castle and kissed him quickly. "See you in a little while, fish breath."

# # # # # # # #

Beckett made her calls and then went to find Jenkins who was using a conference room to make calls of his own.

"Yeah, we'll have the story ready to run this evening." He looked at Beckett standing in the doorway. "I've got to go."

Jenkins quickly ended the call and looked at her. "The US State Department would like to officially to thank you and your team for your assistance in resolving this matter," he said. "And the Canadian government is very pleased to have their samples back. It seems they are the only ones left from Cutchins' research."

Beckett studied the man for several quiet minutes with a neutral expression on her face before finally speaking, using the silence to her advantage. "I just had an interesting conversation with Captain Gates," she started. "Her source in the DoJ said that Cutchins was never in Costa Rica."

She walked further into the room. "In fact, he's been in a nursing home for the last 2 years, suffering from end-stage Alzheimer's. So he was never in Canada either. So what I want to know is what the hell is going on."

Now it was Jenkins turn to study her for several moments before he spoke. "We saw an opportunity to divest the US government of two serious problems and took advantage of it."

"By putting Castle in the cross-hairs?" Beckett asked incredulously. "He could have been killed."

"Which he was very aware of," said a man in scrubs and surgical hat who had walked in behind her. He quietly shut the door. "Hence the tapes he made. What he said on those was very real."

Beckett looked at him. "Why am I not surprised," she said rhetorically. "What should I call you today? Cross? Hunt?"

The man looked at his name tag and then back at Beckett with a charming smile. "Dr. Warneke will do."

Beckett nodded. "Okay. So what was this all about?"

"You've worked for the AG and know that they bend the rules slightly – work out of the box so to speak – to get what they want," Castle's father said. "We can do that a lot more when it's necessary to remove a threat to our country."

"And that man was a threat?" Beckett asked.

Warneke nodded. "A very real threat. Alfred Andrew Morin aka the cobra was with the Mounties, but about 35 years ago, he started dealing on the side – selling state secrets to the highest bidder. And his last 'assignment' was to acquire what Cutchins was working on. We think Cutchins found out and that's why he took the samples, destroyed the rest of his work, and requested alyssum here."

Warneke frowned. "And Morin was one of the men trying to kidnap Richard. Our operative thought they had killed him that night, but later that evening, we found the van that had taken his body away burning by the side of the road and he was nowhere to be found."

"We've been trying to take him down since then and have been close several times, but he always managed to escape and go underground," Jenkins said. "So we saw an opportunity and went for it."

"And your plan was for him to take Castle hostage and then try to drown Castle in the lake during the take down?" Beckett frowned.

"It got him out of the line of fire," replied Warneke.

"So you tried to kill your son to protect him?" Beckett asked, making a slight face.

"Well, we had to change the script a little. You know how it is when something goes into production," said Brown.

Beckett nodded. "What about Cutchins?"

Warneke shrugged. "All part of the plan. A red herring, so to speak. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept."

"The amnesia – was that part of the plan too?" Beckett asked, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

"That's not how I would have liked that to go, but Richard was right," said Warneke. "He said he could bluff for a while, but he'd eventually give it away and we'd lose our chance."

Beckett frowned. "And the boat? Did you really put Castle in a boat in the bay for several days? Weren't you concerned that he'd drown?"

"No, we didn't, so no, we weren't," Jenkins replied. "That's the wonder of tanning beds. You can get a good burn in a couple of hours. Then it was just a matter of dropping him where we knew the Coast Guard would run into him. Don't worry – he didn't feel a thing."

Beckett could only stare at him. "So you purposely gave Castle amnesia but then gave him clues so he would try to solve the puzzle." She shook her head. "This sounds like something Castle would write."

Warneke shrugged. "Well, you've read his books."

Beckett nodded, thinking, trying to put all the pieces together, but was interrupted by her phone. She smiled as she answered the call. "Hey, babe."

"Hey," came the hoarse voice. "They decided that I'm fine – I only swallowed about half the lake – and they're releasing me."

"Great. I'll be right there." She ended the call and looked at the two men in the room. "So is this over?"

They both nodded. "It should be. We got Morin and the Canadian government recovered their samples so all it right in the world right now."

"Good," nodded Beckett. She started to leave and then turned back to them. "By the way, the US government owes my team new guns. I expect them first thing tomorrow morning at the precinct."

"I'll see to it," promised Jenkins.

She frowned questioningly at them. "You said two serious problems. What was the other one?"

"Oh, that," said Warneke, looking innocent. "Just a little frenemy matter that was resolved in our best interest."

# # # # # # # #

Castle was sitting in a wheelchair at the emergency room entrance when Beckett walked up.

"You'll be glad to know I won't be growing gills anytime soon," he quipped as he smiled at her.

"Good, because I was never a big Aqua man fan," she said as she bent over to kiss him.

Wincing slightly, Castle slowly stood as the town car pulled up to the door.

"You okay, babe? Did you hurt your back when you fell into the lake?" Beckett asked, putting out a hand to steady him.

"Antibiotic shots to ward off infection," he replied as he rubbed a hip. "You should have seen the needles they used – I think they were meant for elephants. I'll be lucky if I can sit down for a couple of days."

"Serves you right for going swimming in 60 degree water," Beckett smiled.

"Well, the nurse said a massage might help," Castle pouted slightly. "And some exercise."

"Oh, really," said Beckett.

"Yeah, she said it would speed my recovery," Castle said hopefully.

"Then we'll have to see what we can do about that," Beckett replied, smiling back slightly and biting her lower lip.

# # # # # # # #

He was in the lake again and all the fish were staring at him, just waiting for him to make a move before they devoured him, and they were holding what smelled like…pancakes?

Castle slowly opened his eyes, well aware that he was being watched, and looked over at the three women standing a couple of feet from the door, all smiling broadly.

"Uh, what's going on?" he asked as he sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eye with the heel of his hand.

"This," said Alexis as she thrust a newspaper towards him excitedly. "You're on page 6 above the fold and in a good way!"

"Yes," said Martha. "And you didn't wake us up to tell us the good news when you got home last night," she admonished him softly.

Castle glanced at Beckett, who shrugged slightly but didn't say anything. "And you made me…congratulatory pancakes?" he said as he looked at the tray Beckett was holding.

"Yes," said Alexis as she held up the paper to read the article. "Ahem – Mystery Solved in Mystery Writer's Disappearance. According to several unnamed government sources, it seems that Richard Castle, master of the macabre, was a very busy boy during the time he was supposedly missing. He was assisting both the United States and Canadian government in recovering stolen samples of a classified cloud-seeding project at great personal risk to himself. The government says that situation has been successfully resolved with Castle's help; in fact, they said they could not have done it without him. Does this mean another best seller is in the works based on his foray? And do we hear wedding bells in the near future? Has his lovely fiancé forgiven him based on these statements? Stay tuned for the latest updates to this story."

Castle frowned as Alexis finished reading, smiling brightly at him, and then he turned on the charm and smiled back at her. "Great; that's just great."

"That's my boy," said Martha, patting his leg. "Now, I've got to run, darlings – I've got a class to teach."

Alexis hugged Castle and quickly kissed him on the cheek. "And I've got class too, but I want to hear all about that this evening, Dad."

"Sure," Castle nodded as he scooted back so Kate could place the tray over his lap. "Yeah, that sounds great."

"And while you eat breakfast, I'll take a quick shower. We need to meet with Gates this morning," Beckett said.

"Yeah, sure," said Castle, smiling at them.

# # # # # # # #

Beckett quickly finished dressing and then walked out of the bedroom to find Castle sitting at his computer, the tray with his uneaten breakfast sitting on the desk beside it.

He smiled slightly at her. "You know, I'm still sore, so I think I'll just stay home and get some writing done," he said as she walked over to him.

Beckett made a slight face. "Sorry, babe, but Captain Gates called me earlier. Apparently the mayor read the article and wants to give you a letter of commendation and 1PP will be there and Ryan and Espo picked up cronuts, so you're kinda stuck."

Castle nodded grimly and closed the lid of his laptop. "Well, it's not like the day can get any worse."

# # # # # # # #

Espo looked at Castle's plaque sitting on Beckett's desk as he ate another cronut. "You know, that's going to look really nice by the coffee machine in the break room," he said around a mouthful.

"Yeah," said Ryan as he put down the newspaper he had been reading. "And we could get this framed to go with it."

"Yeah, just so we remember why you have such a big ego," chimed in Espo.

"Ha, ha," said Castle. "Very funny."

"Hey, we're headed to the range to test these babies out," said Ryan, taking the new gun out of the box that was on his desk. "Wanna come? Take in some practice in case you meet some more bad guys and have to take them out."

"That's really funny," said Castle sarcastically.

"Listen, babe, why don't you get me some coffee?" Beckett asked, holding out her cup.

"Sure," said Castle, standing up and walking out of the room with her cup in his hand, a slight sag in his shoulders.

Beckett gave her team the 'quit or you die' look and then followed Castle into the break room after a few minutes. She watched him stare at the cappuccino machine for a moment before speaking. Something wasn't right here.

"Hey, Castle," she said softly. "Is everything okay?"

Castle looked at Beckett, an almost devastated look on his face, and let out a sigh. "It's the Jordan fiasco all over again," he said so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

"Babe?" she asked.

"That article, Kate – it's a lie and I'm a fraud. I'm being praised for something that I didn't do," he said morosely. "But now, the whole world will know."

Beckett frowned at him. "Rick, how do you know that?"

"Because Cutchins wasn't working on a cloud seeding project," Castle said.

"But Jenkins and your father said he was," she said.

"And you believed them?" Castle asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "It's not the first time they've lied to you." He frowned and then shrugged slightly. "But it does sound a lot less scary than what Cutchins was really working on."

Beckett waited, letting Castle take his time.

"I think Cutchins let us shoot off rockets to distract us and I didn't realize it until I started researching _Tropical Storm_." He paused, thinking back.

"When we were setting up the rockets, Cutchins would go on and on about airborne nerve agents – how they would take out anyone in the area, even those people it wasn't meant to affect. Hell – any toxin released in the air will do that, as we both well know." He looked at Beckett.

"Anyway, after he thought we left, he's set up these other rockets and cages with mice in them on the ground. But these rockets didn't go up; they just exploded in the same direction each time and always twice – a red puff and then a white puff that would envelop the red puff and dissipate it. The mice in the first cage would keel over while the mice in the second cage would be fine."

Beckett frowned at him. "Did you see this?"

"Yes," said Castle, making a face. "I left my jacket there one time and Kenny made me go back and get it. I don't think he knew I was there. That's when I realized that people outside of the theater were just as crazy - hell, even more crazy - than people inside the theater. I think that's what drawn me to the macabre - that normal looking people could do the most unnormal things."

He leaned back against the table slightly. "So, when I was researching Tropical Storm, I tried to find anything Cutchins had written about cloud seeding, but what I found was a paper on targeted aerosolized delivery systems with his pictures at Hollander's Woods. The first puff would release the toxin and the second puff would neutralize it."

"So you could target a group of people but leave another group of people nearby unaffected," said Beckett. Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh my god, Castle – the Canadian government has those samples."

Castle smiled slightly, his eyes sparkling for the first time that morning. "No, not really – and that's the irony of the situation." He paused, looking both slightly pleased and slightly fearful.

"Besides being a brilliant if somewhat morally comprised scientist, Cutchins was also a practical joker and I mean of the heart-stopping variety. He'd give you a can to open and a live snake would fly out, or he'd ask you to get something out of a bag and forget to tell you about the tarantula inside."

Castle shivered in remembrance. "So when I saw his samples in the lake, I thought 'why not' and added a little something to them.

"Remember I said that Barney would always find a skunk when we were camping? Well, apparently the smell of skunk doesn't bother me like it does other people so I was always elected to wash him after his encounters.

"And Barney had been sprayed the morning that I found the samples, so I thought it was time for a little payback. I carefully scraped the thiol off Barney's coat, added it to the samples, and then hid them. They're probably worthless because of that but whoever opens them may get an unpleasant surprise depending if the thiol is still active."

His eyes widened again as the words rushed out. "So when the fake Tiffany told me what they wanted, I almost peed myself because I knew the samples weren't any good and I was pretty sure if I said anything, they would have just dumped me from the helicopter and disappeared again."

Beckett nodded slowly at the revelation as the pieces fell into place. "Oh those smart rat bastards," she muttered to herself.

She moved closer and put her arms around Castle. "You know what, babe, part of the article may have been a lie to make us feel safer, but I know your involvement in it wasn't. I think you did exactly what it says you did."

She leaned in to kiss him and then rested her forehead against his. "Listen," she said quietly.

"Hmmm?" Castle responded.

"Can you hear them?" Beckett whispered.

"What?" asked Castle, slightly confused.

"The sound of wedding bells in the near future," Beckett replied as she kissed him again.

Castle's face relaxed into a smile at that and he started to kiss her when they were interrupted be a "ahem" from the doorway.

"Not to break up this booty call," said Espo, "but we have a body. You guys coming or what?"

***The End***


End file.
